£ 


I 


ONE  WIFE   TOO   MANY. 


ONE    WIFE    TOO    MANY; 


EIP 


BIGHAM. 


A  TALE  OF  TAPPAN  ZEE, 


EDWARD   HOPPER. 


NEW    YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY   HURD  AND  HOUGHTOX, 

459  BROOME  STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

EDWARD  HOPPER. 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New 
York. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY 


CONTENTS. 


PAQE 

I.  TAPPAN  ZEE 7 

II.   THE  MARRIAGE 11 

III.  THE  LEGEND 14 

IV.  PROGNOSTICATIONS 18 

V.  VOYAGE     ........  28 

VI.   MANHATTA 36 

VII.  VOYAGE  UP  THE  HUDSON  BY  SLOOP      ...  39 

VIII.   TAPPAN 48 

IX.   THE  FKOLIC 60 

X.   THE  EMPTY  HOUSE 85 

XI.   BAD  NEWS ]03 

XII.   THE  WIDOW 108 

XIII.  THE  DOMINIE 138 

XIV.  WIFE  NUMBER  Two 151 

XV.   REVIVAL 170 

XVI.  A  SNARL *      ...  191 

XVII.  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE 197 

XVIII.   QUALITY  AND  QUANTITY 207 

XIX.   WAR 222 

XX.  PEACE    .        .                241 

XXI.   RECONSTRUCTION 244 

XXII.  MORAL    .  261 


Ml8£041 


ONE  WIFE  TOO   MANY. 

I. 
TAPPAN   ZEE. 

IN  the  olden  days  when  Jonathan 
Was  but  an  unweaned,  feeble  child 
And  his  inheritance  a  wild, 
Snatched  at  by  every  robber  clan  ; 

His  guardian  angel  flew  abroad, 

To  distant  lands  and  isles  afar, 

With  banner  of  a  guiding  star, 
And  golden  trumpet  sounding  loud  ; 

And  called  the  people  to  his  aid, 

To  keep  his  life  inviolate  ; 

And  that  for  his  divine  estate 
The  sure  foundations  might  be  laid. 

Though  Heaven  assisted  at  his  birth, 
And  gave  him  as  his  heritage, 


•:  :  ^\  &XE.WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

To  hold,  when  he  should  come  of  age, 
Vast  realms  of  his  good  mother  Earth, 

He  needed  help  of  hearts  and  hands, 
Brave-hearted  men,  the  strong  and  true, 
To  do  what  brave  good  men  could  do, 

To  fell  his  woods,  and  clear  his  lands, 

And  lay  foundations  deep  and  strong, 
And  build  his  palace  worthily, 
With  wings  to  stretch  from  sea  to  sea, 

And  roof  of  stars  to  last  as  long 

As  heaven's  own  star-lit  canopy 
O'erspreads  the  ever- sounding  sea; 
As  long  as  winds  and  waves  are  free, 

And  long  as  man  loves  liberty. 

None  but  the  bold,  none  but  the  free, 
Not  many  pampered  rich,  or  great, 
Were  called  to  rear  his  glorious  state, 

But  men  made  strong  by  poverty  ; 

Men  seasoned  by  the  fire  and  flood  ; 
Men  bruised  by  tyrants'  threshing  flails, 
And  winnowed  by  the  winnowing  gales, 

Like  wheat  from  chafif,  —  the  sound  and  good, 


TAPPAN  ZEE.  9 

A  holy  shrine's  pure  worshipers, 

From  shivered  tree-roofs'  sacred  spots,  — 

The  Puritans,  the  Huguenots, 
And  glorious,  free-born  Hollanders : 

These  saw  the  angel  from  afar,  — 
The  guardian  of  our  infant  land, 
With  golden  trumpet  in  his  hand  ; 

And  followed  his  far-reaching  star. 

O'er  ocean's  stormy  depths  they  came, 
Led  by  the  Angel  clothed  in  fire, 
With  souls  which  faith  and  hope  inspire, 

And  love,  with  its  celestial  flame. 

The  Puritan  sought  the  rock-bound  coast, 
To  match  his  own  stern  character  ; 
The  Huguenot  and  Hollander 

A  sunnier  heart  and  home  would  boast. 

A  fitting  home  our  heroes-  found 
By  Tappan  Zee,  whose  waters  fell 
From  some  celestial  spring,  or  well, 

In  which  the  smiles  of  heaven  abound. 

For  all  the  smiles  of  heaven  we  trace 

In  its  clear  depths;  the  sunbeams  bright 
By  day,  and  gentle  stars  by  night, 

Shine  constant  in  its  lovely  face. 


10  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  guide  to  whom  the  boon  was  given 
To  show  to  men's  admiring  eyes 
The  river  strayed  from  Paradise, 

When  man  was  from  the  garden  driven, 

The  silvery  Half-Moon's  car  bestrode, 

And  gave  the  white-winged  steeds  the  reins ; 
Then,  with  a  hero's  pluck  and  pains, 

Across  the  globe,  in  search  he  rode  ; 

Nor  reined  his  steeds  until  he  came 
Upon  the  glorious  river-tide 
Which  men,  in  gratitude  and  pride, 

Have  ever  since  called  by  his  name. 

'T  was  meet  that  Hudson's  countrymen, 
For  whom  Heaven  had  a  special  choice, 
In  such  a  pilot  should  rejoice, 

And  pitch  their  tents  where  his  had  been. 

'T  was  thus  our  fathers,  good  and  wise, 
The  path  of  empire  Westward  traced, 
And  thus  their  worthy  feet  were  placed 

Within  the  New  World's  Paradise. 

With  these  came  Dirk  Van  Bigham's  son, 
Heroic  Rip,  too  early  torn 
From  his  young  bride,  to  trouble  born, 

Ere  their  twin-life  had  scarce  bemin. 


THE  MARRIAGE.  11 

II. 

THE  MARRIAGE. 

OH  merrily,  merrily  ring  the  bells, 

In  Amsterdam,  the  marriage-bells  ; 

And  every  voice  with  joy  foretells, 
Nothing  distrustful,  nothing  loth, 
Joy  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom  both. 

Merry  and  clear  and  laughing  the  bells  ; 
Fairies  have  entered  their  brazen  cells, 

To  rattle  the  steeple  down ; 
And  every  one  says,  from  street  to  street, 
The  bridegroom  is  gentle,  the  bride  is  sweet, 

And  a  better  match  you  could  not  meet 

In  any  Netherland  town. 

The  joy  leaps  down  from  every  face, 
And  trips  along  from  place  to  place, 

And  rattles  from  every  tongue, 
As  if  the  heads  of  all  the  people 
Were  each  a  belfry  of  a  steeple, 

In  which  a  bell  was  rung. 

And  bells  pour  blessings  from  every  sound, 
As  the  sun  pours  sunbeams  on  the  ground, 
On  bride  and  bridegroom  young  ; 


12  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  no  one  asks,  nor  wonders  whether 
The  two  young  hearts  they  've  chimed  together 
Shall  wish  they  'd  ne'er  been  rung. 

Oh  merrily,  merrily  ring  the  bells, 
Merrily  ring  the  marriage-bells, 
And  every  one  with  joy  foretells, 
%  Nothing  distrustful,  nothing  loth, 
Joy  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom  both. 

Their  hearts  were  married  long  before, 
And  now  the  formal  troth  and  plight 

And  sacred  seal  could  add  no  more 
Than  outward  symbols  of  the  right 

By  which  they  held  each  other  fast, 

Through  good  and  ill,  while  life  should  last. 

From  early  childhood  they  had  known 
And  loved  each  other,  till  at  length, 

Their  hearts,  which  had  together  grown, 
Were  one  in  their  maturer  strength, 
And  one,  in  solemn  form  to-day, 
Only  that  they  might  weep  at  parting ; 

For  Rip  must  leave  her  on  the  morrow. 
On  cheeks  of  love  the  tears  were  starting 

That  dimmed  their  bridal  day  with  sorrow  ; 

For  he  must  sail,  on  venture  bold, 

With  spirit  of  his  fathers  old, 

To  seek  for  her  both  lands  and  gold. 


THE  MARRIAGE.  13 

This  was  the  plan  agreed  upon, 
And  this  the  cloud  upon  their  sun. 
Katrina  feared  for  fearless  Rip  — 
What  evils  might  befall  the  ship ! 
What  lurking  storms  on  every  hand, 
What  dangers  in  the  distant  land, 
That  new  and  untried  world,  where  he 
Would  build  their  home  beyond  the  sea  ? 
This  was  the  cloud  upon  her  brow ; 
This  made  his  bride  so  lovely  now,  — 
More  lovely  that  her  eyes  were  dim 
Because  her  tears  were  shed  for  him  ; 
More  precious  to  his  loving  heart 
As  treasure  is  from  which  we  part. 

He  would  not  have  her  weaker  form 
Go  brave  the  hardship  and  the  storm 
Till  first  he  built  his  bird  a  nest 
In  the  bright  regions  of  the  West, 
Then  she  might  fly  and  be  at  rest. 

And  she,  though  brave  as  bride  may  be, 
Had  inward  tremblings  at  the  sea, 
From  that  mysterious,  inborn  dread 
With  which  her  soul  at  birth  was  wed ; 
Or  from  wild  legends  she  had  read  ;  — 
How  their  forefathers  stained  the  flood 
With  deeds  of  glory  and  of  blood, 
And  cleft  with  angry  swords  the  waves 
Both  for  their  own  and  foemen's  graves. 


14  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

in. 

THE  LEGEND. 

THEIR  ancestors  were  vikings  old, 

Brave  rovers  of  the  sea  ; 
And,  in  the  bloody  battles,  bold 

As  boldest  men  could  be. 

They  fought  the  Turk  and  broke  his  power, 

When  at  the  height  was  he  ; 
And  saw  his  flaming  crescent  lower 

Upon  the  crimson  sea. 

Nor  this  was  all ;  —  alack  the  day  ! 

They  turned  and  fought  each  other, 
When  Christian  raised  his  hand  to  slay 

And  rob  his  Christian  brother. 

But  these  sad  years  went  trembling  by  ; 

And  lo  !  a  peaceful  dove, 
With  holy  message  from  the  sky, 

Had  changed  their  hate  to  love. 

And  Rip  Van  Bigham  and  his  bride  — 

The  good  Katrine  Barthold, 
Had  grown  together,  side  by  side, 

In  love,  from  foemen  old. 


THE  LEGEND.  15 

But  sweet  Katrine  much  feared  the  sea, 

And  shuddered  at  the  waves, 
Which  their  bold  foemen  ancestry 

Had  made  each  others'  graves. 

For  she  had  heard  the  legend  old 

Of  one  whose  name  she  bore, 
The  cruel  viking,  Bad  Barthold, 

Who  died  long  years  before. 

A  bloody  death  he  died  at  last 

And  perished  on  the  land, 
At  Groningen,  where  life  flowed  fast, 

From  War's  avenging  hand. 

For  many  and  many  a  foe  had  he, 

When  victor  in  the  strife, 
Cast  headlong  in  the  foamy  sea, 

Though  pleading  for  his  life. 

Among  them  was  an  only  son, 

A  widow  was  his  mother  ; 
He  was  her  staff  to  lean  upon  ; 

On  earth  she  had  no  other. 

With  her  he  had  a  youthful  wife, 

And  little  one  beside  ; 
For  these  he  pleaded  for  his  life,  — 

His  mother,  babe,  and  bride. 


16  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY, 

"  I  am  my  mother's  only  son  ! 

She  has  on  earth  no  other  ; 
I  have  a  wife  and  little  one ! 

My  mother,  Oh  my  mother  !  " 

In  vain  he  pleads  ;  in  vain  he  kneels  ; 

For  wives,  or  babes,  or  mothers, 
Barthold  the  Bad  no  mercy  feels, 

But  slays  him  with  the  others. 

Oh  yes  !  in  spite  of  cries  like  these, 
While  yet  his  lips  are  speaking, 

He  hurls  him  to  the  boiling  seas, 
Amid  the  groans  and  shrieking. 

He  does  not  sink,  as  others  do, 
But  swims  and  follows  after  ; 

Now  wailing  forth  his  plea  of  woe, 
And  now  his  maniac  laughter. 

"  I  have  a  wife  and  little  one  ; 

Oh  save  us  for  each  other ! 
I  am  a  widow's  only  son  : 

My  mother,  Oh  my  mother  !  " 

The  day  grew  calm,  the  work  was  done, 
And  hushed  the  wild  commotion  ; 

And  many  a  corpse  sank,  with  the  sun, 
Beneath  the  blood-stained  ocean. 


THE  LEGEND.  17 

But  still  this  victim  would  not  die, 

But  followed  in  his  wake, 
And  prayed,  with  that  same  pleading  eye, 

For  that  same  mercy's  sake. 

The  viking  trembled  in  his  bed, 

He  trembled  ever  after  ; 
He  tried  to  think  his  victim  dead, 

But  heard  his  groans  and  laughter. 

He  saw  him  at  his  vessel's  side, 

Swimming  as  heretofore, 
Where'er  he  sailed  on  oceans  wide, 

To  what  far-distant  shore. 

When  all  was  calm,  or  mid  the  storm, 

By  day  and  in  the  night, 
He  saw  that  youthful  hero's  form, 

And  trembled  at  the  sight. 


.- 


Saw  his  despairing,  pleading  eye 

Beseeching  for  his  life  ; 
And  heard  his  plaintive,  broken  cry 

For  mother,  babe,  and  wife. 

He  left  the  sea  with  bags  of  gold, 
And  all  a  viking's  glory,  — 


18  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Barthold  the  Brave,  the  bad  Barthold ; 
Then  told  his  fearful  story. 

But  still  the  scene  would  follow  him 
From  shore  to  distant  shore, 

And  still  he  saw  his  victim  swim 
And  plead  as  heretofore. 

And  when  he  met,  at  Groningen, 
His  bloody  end,  in  battle, 

His  victim's  prayer  was  heard  by  men 
In  Barthold's  last  death-rattle,  — 

"  I  have  a  wife  and  little  one  ; 

Oh  save  us  for  each  other ! 
I  am  my  mother's  only  son  : 

My  mother,  Oh  my  mother  !  " 


IV. 
PROGNOSTICATIONS. 

KATRINA'S  good  uncle,  old  Wolfert  Van  Gruntz, 
Had  an  eye  for  the  dark,  and  saw  it  at  once, 
And  flew  about  in  it  with  the  ease  of  a  bat, 
And  revelled  therein  with  the  gust  of  a  rat. 
He  thought  Rip's  adventure  was  wild  and  all  that., 
Not  worth  the  clay  pipe  in  the  band  of  his  hat ; 


PROGNOSTICATIONS.  19 

And  such  a  wild-goose  chase  filled  him  with  dread, 
For  he  saw  the  shadows  of  dangers,  he  said, 
The  storms  in  mid-ocean  ;  the  breakers  ahead  ; 
Sharks  following  the  ship,  to  eat  him  when  dead  ; 
And  if  he  was  wrecked  and  arrived,  on  a  spar, 
Without  money,  or  clothes,  what  could  he  do  there 
But  lie  down  and  die,  without  saying  a  prayer. 
Besides,  the  wild  Indians  had  talons  like  hawks, 
And  lurked  in  the  forests  and  bushes  and  stalks, 
All  hungry  and  ready,  by  night  and  by  day, 
To  swoop  like  hawks,  and  to  pounce  on  their  prey. 
Those  savages,  red  with  the  stain  of  men's  blood, 
Had  been  swept  to  that  land  by  tempest  and  flood, 
By  the  wrath  of  Almighty,  chasing  them  fast, 
Till  they  got  to  that  unpeopled  world  at  last, 
With  the  red  mark  of  Cain  on  every  brow, 
And  murder  at  heart,  and  they  had  it  there  now  ; 
And  a  man  at  a  meal  was  a  very  small  thing 
For  one  of  those  red  human  hawks  on  the  wing. 

To  which  Rip  replied,  that  Uncle  Van  Gruntz 
Was  always  predicting  his  pigs  would  be  runts  ; 
And  of  all  his  fine  calves  he  had  n't  a  calf 
Worth  the  milk  that  it  took  from  the  cow,  by  half; 
If  he  set  an  old  hen  the  eggs  would  n't  hatch, 
Or  if  they  did,  then  the  chickens  would  scratch 
And  tear  up  his  garden  and  tulips,  perhaps  ; 
And  to  close  up  accounts  would  die  of  the  gapes. 


20  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

If  it  rains  he  says  it  will  drown  all  the  crops, 
And  predicts  a  long  drought  as  soon  as  it  stops ; 
Last  year  he  foretold  a  great  famine  and  dearth, 
That  would  starve  all  mankind  and  ruin  the  earth, 
Because  of  the  drought ;  and  when  that  was  over, 
And  the  earth  fairly  groaned  with  the  grain  and 

clover, 

Then  he  said  that  such  crops  did  far  greater  harm 
Than  famine,  because  they  exhausted  the  farm. 
Our  good  Uncle  Gruntz  must  grumble,  or  die  : 
He  once  tried  to  sing,  but  his  song  was  a  sigh. 
On  the  brightest  of  days  Uncle   Gruntz    sees  a 

cloud 

In  shape  of  a  coffin,  a  hearse,  or  a  shroud ; 
He  seems  to  take  pleasure  in  being  in  trouble, 
And  gets  all  he  can  of  it,  then  makes  it  double. 
When  a  boy  he  used  to  play  at  soap-bubble, 
As  all  children  do  ;  but  he  had  the  knack 
Of  making  the  brightest  of  bubbles  look  black  ; 
And  all  the  bright  hopes  that  cheer  other  men 
With  Uncle  Van  Gruntz  are  those  bubbles  again. 
To  look  at  all  things  as  they  are,  is  his  pride  ; 
Then  turns  them  all  over  to  find  their  dark  side ; 
And  casts  his  black  horoscope  farthest  ahead 
To  find  for  his  pleasure  what  most  people  dread. 
And  even  the  sun  is  dark  to  Van  Gruntz,  — 
He  knows  it  is  so,  for  he  looked  at  it  once. 


PR  OGNOS  Tl  CA  TI ONS.  2 1 

To  which  Van  Gruntz   made   cautious  answer 

mild, 

For  sweet  Katrina's  sake,  his  sister's  child, 
And  for  young  Rip,  because  he  loved  him  well, 
And  feared  for  both  what  he  must  needs  foretell. 
"  You  know  how  Mount  Pilatus  raves  with  storm, 
And  has  so  raved  since  Pontius  Pilate's  form, 
Ages  ago,  was  found  upon  its  peak. 
All  travellers  tell  us  that  the  wail  and  shriek, 
Like  that  of  human  soul  in  blank  despair, 
Are  always  heard  in  its  most  dismal  air,  — 
The  wails  and  shrieks  of  him  who  perished  there. 
For  he,  the  bad  judge  of  the  Crucified, 
Had  wandered  to  that  mountain- top,  and  died. 
Accursed,    through    earth  he    wandered,    seeking 

rest, 

And  finding  none,  till  on  that  lonely  crest 
He  raved  his  soul  out ;  and  the  shuddering  Mount 
Took  up  his  wailings  ;  —  such  is  the  account. 
And  from  that  time,  like  Pilate's  troubled  breast, 
The  desolate  Mount  Pilatus  cannot  rest ; 
No  living  thing,  that  has  the  touch  of  pain, 
Amid  its  furious  tempests  can  remain ; 
No  bird  ere  tries  its  song  :  no  foot,  nor  wing, 
Can  stand  its  ceaseless  storms,  —  no  living  thing,  — 
Where  Pilate's  curse  has  left  its  deathless  sting, 
And  where  his  groans,  that  to  the  mountain  cling, 
From  rock  to  rock  their  ceaseless  echoes  fling. 


22  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

"  And  like  Pilatus  hath  the  ocean  been 
Since  our  forefathers  stained  it  with  their  sin. 
Our  fathers,  in  the  bloody  days  of  old, 
As  fierce  in  battle  as  their  hearts  were  bold, 
Bequeathed  their  wrath  to  storm-fiends  of  the  seas, 
To  'venge  their  deaths,  by  cruel  enemies, 
On  children's  children  down  to  coming  ages : 
These  lash  the  ocean  till  it  foams  and  rages, 
While  phantom  ships  and  angry  spirits  sweep, 
As  with  a  besom,  the  tumultuous  deep. 
For  blood-stained  ghosts,  at  sea,  can  never  rest, 
But  course  the  ocean  in  their  vengeful  quest, 
Flying  on  clouds  and  winds,  from  crest  to  crest ; 
And  with  the  voice  of  storms  for  vengeance  cry 
To  angry  Heaven  that  thunders  its  reply. 
Thus  armed  with  wrath  each  wide-mouthed,  hun 
gry  wave 

Opens  its  jaws  to  be  a  human  grave. 
'T  is  thus  our  treasure,  thus  our  kith  and  kin 
Must  pay  the  debt  of  our  forefathers'  sin  ; 
For  much  remains  unpaid,  though  poverty 
By  wreck  and  loss,  has  cursed  our  family." 

To  whom  the  good  Katrina  made  reply  :  — 
"  Lay  not  our  losses  to  the  angry  sky, 
Nor  to  the  hate  of  ancient  enemies 
Seeking  revenge  upon  the  angry  seas. 
Our  new  religion  tells  us,  <  God  is  love ; ' 


PROGNOSTICATIONS.  23 

And  He  hath  sent  again  the  gentle  Dove, 
That  calmed  the  troubled  deep  at  the  beginning, 
To  turn  men's  souls  from  hate  and  angry  sinning. 
Kind  Heaven  forgives ;    and  they  who   hope    for 

heaven 

Forgive  as  they  do  hope  to  be  forgiven. 
The  wrath  of  men  cannot  forever  last ; 
Our  fathers'  feuds  are  buried  with  the  past ; 
And  Rip  and  I  are  married  just  to  prove 
That  our  forefathers'  hate  has  turned  to  love." 

But  still  she  owned  a  dread,  a  strange  commo 
tion, 

She  knew  not  why,  at  sight  or  sound  of  ocean  :  — 
Its  gentlest  tones  seemed  to  her  ears,  she  said, 
Like  everlasting  meanings  of  the  dead ; 
Its  sight  was  symbol  of  the  desolate, 
The  lone  and  drear,  —  the  lost  from  hope's  estate, 
And  this  strange  dread  was  heightened,  she  con 
fessed, 

By  the  sad  words  Van  Gruntz  had  just  addressed, 
And  stood  like  nightmare  on  a  sleeper's  breast : 
She  tried  to  throw  it  off,  but  vainly  tried  ; 
And  mid  the  shadows  of  that  eventide 
Thus  sang  for  Rip,  his  good  and  loving  bride : 


24  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 


KATRINA'S   SONG. 

WHEN  bright  young  Hope  comes  tempting  us 

To  try  an  unknown  shore, 
She  tells  us  of  the  halcyon  days 

Laid  up  for  us  in  store  ; 
But  tells  us  not  what  starless  nights 

o 

And  dangers  lie  before. 

The  glorious  land  that  shines  afar, 

Beyond  the  distant  sea, 
On  Nature's  breast,  without  a  jar, 

Asleep  so  peacefully, 
Seems  like  a  far-off  distant  star, 

An  unknown  world  to  me. 

And  you  seem  taking  wings  to  fly, 

My  love,  to  that  far  shore ; 
You  seem  like  one  about  to  die, 

Whom  I  shall  see  no  more, 
Whose  soul  is  starting  for  the  sky, 

For  treasure  laid  in  store. 

I  know  't  is  foolish  so  to  speak, 

Nor  is  this  fancy  true  ; 
I  know  and  feel  that  I  am  weak, 

And  cannot  say  adieu  ; 


RIP'S  SONG.  25 

For  all  the  world  looks  blank  and  bleak, 
Since  I  must  part  from  you. 

With  all  my  treasure  on  the  deep,  — 

My  husband  dear,  my  own, 
Launched  forth  to  tempt  the  storms  that  sweep 

The  broad  Atlantic  down, 
I  cannot  help  it,  I  must  weep, 

Though  Heaven  may  smile,  or  frown. 

To  whom  brave  Rip,  rejoicing  in  his  bride, 
Repressing  much,  right  hopefully  replied  : 

RIP'S   SONG. 

BLESSINGS  forever  on  my  wife  ! 

Come,  let  me  dry  your  tears  ; 
Be  cheerful,  sweet  Katrine,  my  life ! 

And  throw  away  your  fears, 
For  we  are  warriors  in  a  strife 

Which  Heaven  approves  and  cheers. 

We  part  but  for  a  year  or  two, 

And  then,  my  gentle  bride 
Shall  see  what  kindly  Hope  can  do 

To  help  us  stem  the  tide  ; 
In  this  Old  World  are  cares  and  woe, 

But  joy  the  other  side. 


26  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  heart  grows  strong  by  hope,  my  love  ; 

I  see  the  land  draw  near, 
The  storm-clad  billows  all  remove, 

And  dangers  disappear ; 
And  while  your  prayers  ascend  above 

I  cannot  feel  a  fear. 

When  I  am  gone,  Katrine,  I  know 
You  will  be  strong  and  brave  ; 

You  will  not  think  of  grief  and  woe, 
Of  wreck  and  watery  grave, 

And  gloomy  caverns  far  below 
The  ocean's  stormy  wave. 

But  think  how  happy  I  am  there, 

In  that  far- distant  land, 
Where  the  golden  sun  and  God's  free  air 

Uphold  the  toiler's  hand, 
And  Freedom  makes  all  things  look  fair 

With  her  bewitching  wand. 

And  think  how  few  shall  be  the  days 

Ere  we  shall  meet  again, 
In  that  bright  world  whose  golden  rays, 

Wed  with  the  silvery  rain, 
Set  all  the  harvest  fields  ablaze 

With  sheaves  of  golden  grain. 


It  IP'S  SONG.  27 

When  there  we  meet,  our  griefs  and  fears 
Shall  drown  in  joy's  sweet  stream  ; 

And  all  our  parting  pangs  and  tears 
But  trifles  then  will  seem ; 

And  our  long-absent  months  or  years, 
A  short  forgotten  dream. 

There  with  a  home,  in  some  bright  spot, 

How  happy  we  shall  be  ; 
With  busy  toil  to  cheer  our  lot, 

And  honest  industry ; 
The  richest  monarch  then  will  not 

Be  happier  than  we. 

And  you  will  pray  when  I  am  gone,  — 

Prayer  is  your  carrier-dove,  — 
And  so  when  you  are  left  alone 

You  '11  send  it  oft  above, 
With  message  to  our  Father's  throne  ; 

And  He  will  bless  our  love. 

And  thus  together  we  shall  meet, 

Though  parted  by  the  sea,  — 
We  '11  bow  before  His  mercy-seat, 

And  there  together  be  ; 
For  I  will  pray  for  you,  my  sweet, 

And  you  will  pray  for  me. 


28  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  God  will  watch  o'er  me  and  you, 
And  lead  us  by  the  hand  ; 

And  keep  us  safe,  and  good,  and  true, 
Till  we  together  stand, 

Clasped  in  each  others'  arms  anew, 
In  that  far-distant  land. 

Now  you  are  stronger,  Kate,  for  this 

Is  not  our  funeral  knell  ; 
Though  no  one  knows  how  hard  it  is, 

Nor  human  tongue  can  tell, 
For  us  to  give  the  parting  kiss, 

And  speak  the  word,  Farewell ! 


V. 

THE   VOYAGE. 

THE  tide  was  up  ;  and  so  were  Van  Dam's  sails ; 
He  gave  the  word,  and  bounding  seaward  went 
The  Rollicker,  while  prayers  for  prosperous  gales 
Arose  ;  but  some  saw  signs  of  ill  portent. 
She  sailed  on  Friday,  and  Van  Gruntz  well  knew 
That  nothing  good  could  ever  come  of  that ; 
No  matter  how  propitious  breezes  blew, 
A  storm  would  soon  turn  up  and  knock  her  flat. 
Perchance   might   drive   her   back  ;  he   hoped  it 
would ; 


THE   VOYAGE.  29 

For   then   the    venturous   Rip   would   believe   his 

word ; 

And  stay  at  home,  as  every  bridegroom  should, 
To  warm  the  nest  of  his  new-mated  bird. 
He   knew    't  would  blow  great   guns ;    and  very 

soon  ; 

For  when  the  dykes  all  trembled,  and  the  forms 
Of  horses  in  the  clouds  dashed  on  the  moon, 
They  never  failed  to  bring  tremendous  storms  ! 
Katrine,  whose  heart  was  hung  'twixt   hope   and 

fear, 

Soon  felt  the  influence  of  Van  Gruntz's  signs  ; 
And  thus  invited  many  a  needless  tear, 
And  sorrow's  ploughshare  with  its  furrowing  lines. 
Full   many   a   day   and   night   she    watched    the 

clouds, 

And  saw  wild  horses  dashing  at  the  moon, 
Then,    wheeling    seaward,    charge,    in    snorting 

crowds, 

And  sweep  the  ocean  !     Such  Van  Gruntz's  boon 
To  one  he  loved,  nor  for  the  world  would  harm  ; 
His  spirit  cast  a  shadow  on  her  heart, 
And  his  ill  omens  filled  her  with  alarm, 
Till  every  rising  wind  would  make  her  start. 
With  all  her  treasure  freighted  in  one  ship, 
And  'gainst  that  ship  the  storm-fiends'  fearful  hate 
Gathering  the  tempest-bolts  to  let  them  slip,  — 
No  wonder  that  she  trembled  for  its  fate  ! 


30  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  when  the  news  came  in  of  the  great  storm 

Which  few  weeks  later  vexed  the  giant  sea, 

And  left  full  many  a  ship  a  helpless  form, 

Her  fears  became  a  sickening  agony. 

Two  ships  had  sailed  that  day  in  company, 

But  one  engrossed  her  thoughts  by  night  and  day ; 

That  one  had  periled  many  in  the  sea, 

But  of  these  many  one  was  chief  alway. 

"  What  fate  is  his  ?  where  is  my  husband  now  ? 

Has  he  outlived  the  storm  ?  —  or  do  the  waves 

Press  down  their  mountain  weight  upon  his  brow, 

Where  thousands  sleep  in  ocean's  gloomy  caves  ?  " 

Hope  came  to  lift  the  darkness,  with  his  lamp  — 

A  feeble  lamp  in  such  a  fearful  night ; 

But  still  he  softly  smoothed  her  pillow  damp, 

And  cheered  her  aching  bosom  with  its  light  ; 

Then  gently  rocked  her  weary  heart  to  sleep  ; 

And  drove  away  her  fears  and  cares  at  once  ; 

Till  sudden  nightmare,  monster  of  the  deep, 

Aroused  her,  in  the  shape  of  old  Van  Gruntz. 


THE   STORM. 

THE  ship  is  on  the  sea  ; 

The  storm  is  in  the  sky  ; 
The  maddened  winds  are  free ; 

The  angry  waves  dash  high. 


THE  STORM.  31 

Loosed  from  their  dens  in  the  deep 
Storm-fiends  howl  in  the  shrouds, 

And  fierce  red  lightnings  leap 
Like  demons  from  the  clouds. 

Manhood  and  strength,  in  vain, 

Buffet  the  tempest's  power  ; 
The  ship  darts  on  the  main, 

Nearer  her  doom  each  hour. 

Beauty  and  childhood  stand 

Pale  on  the  trembling  deck  : 
O  God  !  stretch  forth  Thine  hand, 

The  raging  billows  check  ! 

"  Stand  to  your  posts,  ye  brave  ! 

You  never  flinched  of  old  ; 
Life,  or  a  watery  grave  : 

Hark  !  death  is  in  the  hold  ! 

"  Strive  ye  for  woman's  sake  ; 

Strive  for  the  infant's  tear ; 
Your  bold  hearts  cannot  quake  ; 

The  sailor  knows  no  fear !  " 

Shrill  was  that  manly  cry 

LTnto  those  gallant  men  ; 
The  tear  was  in  their  eye, 

And  fierce  the  struggle  then. 


ONE   WIFE   TOO  MAN Y. 

But  fiercer  grows  the  gale, 
And  louder  than  before, 

Till  every  tattered  sail 

And  shivered  mast  gives  o'er. 

The  frightened  infant  clings 
Fast  to  its  mother's  breast ; 

And  strange  !  the  weird  wind  sings 
The  little  one  to  rest ! 

For  prayers  have  gone  to  Heaven, 

And  lo  !  an  angel  form, 
With  rainbow-crown,  is  given 

To  still  the  angry  storm. 

Full  many  have  found  a  grave, 
And  billowy  winding-sheet, 

Where  oft  the  mournful  wave 
Their  requiem  shall  repeat. 

Low  is  their  pearly  bed, 
Beneath  the  Atlantic  deep, 

Where  winds,  that  wail  the  dead, 
Can  never  wake  their  sleep. 

But  where  that  angel-form 
The  crown  of  rainbow  wears 

No  victims  has  the  storm, 

For  God  has  heard  their  prayers. 


THE  RESCUE.  33 

It  stands  by  the  old  Groed  Vrouw, 
Which  sailed  with  the  Rollicker ; 

God  guide  her  consort  now 
To  come  and  rescue  her ! 


THE  RESCUE. 

THE  Rollicker  had  met  the  blast, 
And  laughed  the  fiends  to  scorn  ; 

But  now  was  scudding  with  bare  mast, 
With  sails  and  rigging  torn. 

For  maniac  winds,  from  storm-burst  clouds, 

Came  flying  down  in  wrath, 
And  strained  her  timbers,  rent  her  shrouds, 

And  drove  her  from  her  path. 

And  wide-mouthed  waves  with  foamy  lip, 

All  hungry  for  a  meal, 
Pursued  and  struck  the  flying  ship 

With  blows  that  made  her  reel. 

But  still  the  captain  smoked  his  pipe, 

For  he  was  cool  and  calm, 
And  held  the  helm  with  sturdy  gripe, 

Did  jolly  Rip  Van  Dam. 


34  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Rotund  of  body,  stout  of  soul, 

And  strong  of  will,  of  course, 
He  had  the  ship  at  his  control, 

As  rider  has  a  horse. 

He  bade  her  fly  before  the  wind, 

Across  the  yeasty  flood, 
Like  horse  that  leaves  the  wolves  behind 

That  chase  him  for  his  blood. 

He  smoked  his  pipe  and  told  his  crew 
That  winds  were  made  to  blow  ; 

And  what  his  brave  good  ship  could  do 
They  knew,  or  ought  to  know. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir ;  Captain,  that  we  ought !  " 

And  all  the  crew  were  calm ; 
So  well  the  spirit  brave  they  caught 

Of  doughty  Rip  Van  Dam. 

And  well  the  ship  obeyed  his  will, 
And  strained  her  for  the  flight ; 

Till  tired  winds  and  waves  were  still, 
Arid  wolves  were  out  of  sight. 

But  many  a  weary  league  it  cost,  — 
That  flight  by  night  and  day  ; 

And  many  feared  the  ship  was  lost, 
So  long  was  her  delay. 


THE  RESCUE.  35 

To  steer  men  right,  yourself  be  right  ; 

To  make  men  brave,  be  brave  ; 
For  truth  and  right  are  the  beacon  light, 

On  land  and  on  the  wave. 

With  such  good  chart  did  Rip  Van  Dam 
Take  the  helm  of  ship  and  crew  ; 

And  steered  them  safe  when  seas  were  calm, 
And  through  the  tempest  too. 

With  such  good  chart  the  Rollicker 
Soon  found  the  wrecked  Goed  Vrouw^ 

And  won  the  name  of  Rescuer, 
To  crown  her  storm-scarred  brow. 

The  crew  with  cheers  received  the  name, 

But  spake  as  sailors  can,  — 
That  any  man  would  do  the  same 

If  he  were  half  a  man. 

The  captain  smoked  his  pipe  with  joy, 

Though  striving  to  look  calm, 
And  talked  and  laughed  like  any  boy, 

Did  jolly  Rip  Van  Dam. 

And  smiling  skies  and  many  a  prayer, 

That  blessings  ever  brings 
Came  down  to  bless  the  RolHcker, 
And  angels  lent  her  wings. 


36  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

So  straight  she  flew  to  the  New  World, 

By  men  and  angels  blest, 
Where  safely  moored,  her  sails  all  furled, 

She  glory  found,  and  rest. 


VI. 
MANHATTA. 

MANHATTA,  daughter  of  the  Manitou, 
From  whom  she  came,  in  primal  days, 

With  rustic  crown  of  beauty  on  her  brow, 
Is  worthy  still  the  lyric  praise. 

Kissed  by  the  zephyrs  of  the  land  and  sea, 

Embraced  by  twin-encircling  arms 
Of  river  nymphs,  in  loving  rivalry, 

She  stood  unrivalled  in  her  charms. 

Bright  skies  looked  down  and  smiled  into  her  face ; 

And  she  for  blushing  honors  given, 
Raised  her  crowned  head,  with  modesty  and  grace, 

And  breathed  her  fragrant  thanks  to  heaven. 

Up  through  her  narrow  pathway,  from  the  sea, 
All  nations  flock,  with  sails  unfurled ; 

And  in  her  bounteous  lap,  admiringly, 
They  cast  the  tribute  of  the  world. 


MANHATTA.  37 

Her  gates  hospitable  are  open  wide, 
With  ample  cheer  for  every  one  ; 
And  guests  keep  pouring  in,  with  every  tide, 


From  rising  to  the  setting  sun. 


Downtrodden  nations,  flying  from  their  chains, 

The  sons  of  sorrow  from  abroad  ; 
Children  of  poverty  and  toil  and  pains, 

That  from  earth's  tyrants  cry  to  God  :  — 

All  kindreds,  peoples,  —  every  tribe  and  tongue 

Come  flocking  to  her  opened  gates, 
Which  constant,  day  and  night,  are  open  flung ; 

And  she,  with  smiles,  their  coming  waits. 

The  poor  feast  on  her  wealth ;  the  halt  and  lame 
Stand  up  erect,  and  walk  like  men ; 

The  blind  eyes  see  ;   and,  warmed   by  her  free 

flame, 
The  dead  revive  and  live  again. 

All  languages  are  spoken  in  her  streets  ; 

The  exile  from  his  fatherland 
A  brother  in  the  passing  stranger  meets, 

Who  speaks  his  name  and  takes  his  hand. 

The  Homestead  of  the  world  !  here  all  mankind 
May  build  their  hearths,  and  light  their  fire ; 


38  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  rear  the  sacred  altars  to  their  mind, 
As  faith  and  holy  love  inspire. 

Her  citizens  go  forth  through  all  the  earth, 
With  crown  of  manhood  on  their  brow, 

Proud  of  the  glorious  city  of  their  birth,  — 
The  child  of  the  great  Manitou. 

Manhatta  tempted  Rip  to  take  repose 

And  lodgings  in  her  fairy  isle, 
To  breathe  the  fragrance  of  her  vine  and  rose, 

And  smoke  her  friendly  pipe  awhile. 

Thence  he,  inspired  with  forecast,  looked  around, 
Like  spies  in  the  old  Promised  Land, 

To  search  the  lay  of  the  surrounding  ground, 
For  milk  and  honey  made  to  hand. 

From  Bowling  Green  to  distant  Bowerie  ; 

From  East  to  West ;  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
With  steady  tread  and  peerless  heart  did  he 

The  rivers,  lands,  and  woods  explore  ; 

Then  to  Gowanus  crossed  the  placid  bay, 

And  all  that  land  of  fat  he  saw  ; 
And  after  that,  on  a  propitious  day, 

Searched  out  the  far  Communipaw : 


VOYAGE    UP    THE  HUDSON  BY  SLOOP.        39 

With  all  so  fair  he  knew  not  which  to  choose ; 

Like  bachelor  mid  troops  of  girls, 
Who  toss  him  to  and  fro,  with  many  a  bruise, 

From  witching  smiles  and  crumpled  curls. 


VII. 
VOYAGE   UP   THE    HUDSON   BY    SLOOP. 

WHILE  in  this  maelstrom  came  to  his  relief 

The  bold  and  venturous  Pioneer,  — 
A  Knickerbocker  sloop,  of  sloops  the  chief, 

In  hardihood  and  speed  and  cheer. 

Her  old  Dutch  flag  was  flying  flauntingly 
High  on  her  thick-set,  well-braced  mast ; 

And  through  the   streets   Van  Horn,  of  Tappan 

Zee, 
Her  doughty  captain,  blew  his  blast. 

He  blew  his  blast,  and  cried,  that  "  In  a  week, 
Or  so,  —  within  two  weeks  at  most,  — 

If  tide  and  wind  proved  fair,  his  sloop  would  seek 
Once  more  the  famous  Tappan  coast." 

Rip  saw  his  chance,  and  seized  it  like  a  man  ; 

By  tide  of  fortune  borne  was  he, 
In  his  affairs,  to  lucky  thought  and  plan, 

And  settlement  on  Tappan  Zee. 


40  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

At  her  good  hour,  withouten  much  delay, 
Her  water-cask  was  filled  and  stored ; 

And  all  her  passengers,  who  day  by  day, 
Had  strolled  about,  now  came  on  board. 

And  then  the  captain  blew  his  parting  blast, 
And  called  all  hands  on  deck,  to  hoist 

The  sails.     Sad,  parting  farewells  came  at  last, 
Through  choking  sobs,  and  eyelids  moist. 

Up  went  the  sails,  and  out  the  Pioneer, 
By  hauling,  till  she  reached  the  tide  ; 

While  Dant  Van  Horn  stood  by  the  helm  to  steer, 
With  helmsman's  conscious  power  and  pride. 

Captain  and  helmsman  till  the  sails  were  filled, 

And  she  was  fairly  in  the  stream, 
And  all  the  landsmen's  shoutings  had  been  stilled, 

Like  plaudits  in  a  passing  dream. 

Then  gave  he,  with  becoming  dignity, 
The  helm  to  Hank,  his  trusty  mate, 

And  like  a  watchful  guardian  of  the  sea, 
He  paced  the  deck,  to  ward  off  fate. 

The  sloop  sprung  forward  like  an  eager  horse, 

When  racing  for  a  golden  cup, 
His  body  stretching  forward  on  the  course, 

His  nose  straight  out,  and  tail  high  up ; 


VOYAGE    UP   THE  HUDSON  BY  SLOOP.        41 

And  well  did  she  obey  her  master's  will ; 

Much  better  than  the  plaguy  crew ; 
But  in  those  days  winds  changed,  as  winds  do  still, 

And  tides  also,  as  tides  now  do. 

'T  was  hence  the  wind  chopped  suddenly  around, 
And  hence  the  tide  began  to  change  ; 

And  hence  the  Pioneer  was  soon  aground, 
Just  opposite  Weehawken  range. 

Meanwhile  the  waves  went  rippling  by  her  side, 

So,  that  in  sooth,  it  did  appear 
She  still  was  sailing,  spite  of  wind  and  tide  ; 

Which  kept  all  hands  in  heart  and  cheer. 

Van  Horn  bragged  much  what   speed  his   sloop 
could  make ; 

And  Rip,  to  see  her  cut  and  scud, 
Next  morn,  went  up  on  deck  to  watch  her  wake  ; 

And  found  her  sticking  in  the  mud  ! 

And  there  was  yet  Manhatta  on  the  right ; 

And  fair  Weehawken  in  the  west ; 
And  Pioneer's  old  berth  still  plump  in  sight, 

And  all  the  world  in  peaceful  rest. 

Rip  passed  below  and  told  the  captain  all  ; 
The  captain  lit  his  pipe,  and  said, 


42  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

With  knowing  wink  at  such  a  trifle  small, 
The  sloop  last  night  had  been  to  bed ! 

"  You  know,"  said  he,  "  we  all  sometimes  do  that, 
And  therefore  cannot  blame  the  sloop  ; 

Besides  she  's  fond  of  old  Hoboken  Flat, 
And  goes  there  like  a  hen  to  coop. 

"  For  that 's  her  native  place  ;  there  in  the  wood 
Her  keel,  and  knees,  and  timbers  grew  ; 

And   there    her  bowsprit,  boom,  and   mast   once 

•    stood  ; 
As  she  well  knows,  and  always  knew. 

"  So  with  a  homesick  feeling,  I  suppose, 

Or  instinct,  something  of  that  sort, 
Straight  for  Hoboken  Flat  she  always  goes ; 

Because  it  is  her  native  port. 

"  But  wait,"  said  he,  "  till  she  gets  under  way  ; 

When  I  have  waked  the  lazy  crew ; 
And  we  have  all  had  breakfast,  and  you  '11  say 

That  all  I  've  said  about  her  's  true. 

"  The  fastest  nag,  you  know,  will  sometimes  balk, 

When  driven  by  his  native  place  ; 
But  when  the  tide  is  up  you  '11  see  her  walk, 

Like  horse  that  chafes  to  run  a  race." 


VOYAGE   UP    THE  HUDSON  BY  SLOOP.        43 

The  crew  at  length  aroused,  and  breakfast  o'er, 

The  captain  blew  a  fearful  blast, 
That  waked  the  echoes  of  Weehawken  shore  ; 

And  Hank  began  to  scratch  the  mast ; 

And  all  the  crew  to  whistle  for  the  wind, 

By  captain's  orders  ;  and  the  tide 
Began  to  flow,  to  suit  the  captain's  mind  ; 

Which  likewise  rose,  with  swelling  pride. 

Then  marched  all   hands,  by   quick,  well-ordered 
tread, 

From  side  to  side,  with  lusty  cheer, 
To  rock,  and  rouse,  and  wake  from  cozy  bed 

The  drowsy,  homesick  Pioneer. 

At  length  the  waking  sloop  began  to  float ; 

And  man  at  masthead  cried,  "  She  creeps ! ' 
Then  stout  Van  Horn  threw  off  his  outer  coat, 

And  blew  a  blast  to  man  the  sweeps. 

By  these  impelled  she  left  her  sluggish  bed, 
With  many  a  homesick  sigh  and  groan ; 

And  then  Van  Horn  began  to  cast  the  lead, 
And  blast  with  most  sonorous  tone. 

At  first  the  Pioneer  seemed  bent  to  prove 
She  always  was  a  balky  horse, 


44  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

For  she  began  to  back,  and  downward  move, 
Instead  of  forward  on  her  course. 

But  by  the  dints  of  sweeps  and  captain's  will, 
The  shrew  was  partly  tamed,  and  then 

Yielded  once  more  to  wind  and  tide,  and  skill, 
And  was  quite  amiable  again. 

She  left  Weehawken  with  its  tempting  glades, 

And  plunging  forward,  on  her  way, 
Made  old  Bull's  Ferry,  and  the  Palisades, 

Before  sundown  that  breezy  day. 

That  night  she  slept  beneath  the  starry  dome, 
And  dreamed  she  stole  the  ebbing  tide, 

As  she  had  ofttimes  done,  to  float  back  home, 
And  sleep  at  sweet  Weehawken's  side. 

Next  morn  again  the  captain  blew  his  blast ; 

Next  morn  again  the  sturdy  crew  ' 
Whistled   for   wind ;   and   Hank   scraped   at   the 
mast ; 

Till  the  old  sloop  flapped  her  wings  and  flew. 

Soon  Spuyten  Duyvil  river  hove  in  sight ; 

Then  Yonkers,  famous  for  good  cheer, 
Where  Dant  Van  Horn  had  spent  a  pleasant  night 

On  every  voyage  for  many  a  year. 


VOYAGE   UP    THE  HUDSON  BY  SLOOP.        45 

That  port   they  made,  and   then  dropped  anchor 
there, 

That  all  who  chose  might  go  ashore, 
To  breathe  once  more  the  land's  refreshing  air, 

And  eat  a  landsman's  meal  once  more. 

While  thus  engaged  the  sun  had  sank  to  rest ; 

And  stout  Van  Horn,  the  captain,  said, 
All  things  considered  he  would  think  it  best 

To  try  once  more  a  landsman's  bed. 

Meanwhile  the  yonkers  from  that  region  round, 

Who  gave  the  town  its  jolly  name, 
Came  roistering  in  for  that  they  heard  the  sound 

Of  Van  Horn's  blast,  and  knew  the  same. 

They  came  to  hold  the  ancient  wrestling  bout ; 

Though  some,  sarcastic,  feigned  to  think 
This  was  but  cover  to  a  wassail  rout 

That  gathered  there  to  fight  and  drink. 

Next  morn  the  night  had  gone  with  half  the  crew ! 

A  captain  's  nothing  without  men  ; 
Therefore  the  stout  Van  Horn  had  nought  to  do 

But  wait  till  they  came  back  again. 

The  second  day  they  came,  all  bruised  and  sore, 
For  they  had  all  been  somewhat  thrown ; 


46  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  stacjorered  much,  as  sailors  do  on  shore  ; 

OO  ' 

And  glad  they  were  to  leave  that  town. 

From  this  great  wrestling  match  the  Pioneer, 

With  streamer  flying  far  behind, 
Was  wafted  off,  with  many  a  yonker's  cheer, 

Which  aided  much  the  prosperous  wind. 

For    Dobbs,    his    ferry,    pointing     straight 
nose, 

She  swallowed  quick  the  waves  between ; 
On  which  Hook  Mountain  gloriously  arose  ; 

And  then  the  Tappan  Zee  was  seen ! 

On  its  fair  bosom  hung  a  dreamy  haze, 
Like  Brussels  lace  on  maiden's  breast ; 

That  tended  to  excite  the  eager  gaze, 
But  left  to  fancy  all  the  rest. 

And  every  now  and  then  weird  Tarry  town 
Appeared,  then  vanished  out  of  sight ; 

Like  white  ghost  hopping  up  and  down  ; 
Then  fading  into  air,  or  light. 

Young  Nyack,  seated  on  her  western  slope, 
Looked  clean,  as  Holland  daughters  should. 

And  like  a  maiden  waiting  to  elope 
Kept  watch  upon  the  passing  flood. 


VOYAGE   UP    THE  HUDSON'  BY  SLOOP.         47 

These  through  the  mist  did  seem  but  fairy  guilds  ; 

While  giant  hills  stood  all  around, 
On  granite  ramparts,  strong  as  Nature  builds, 

To  guard  and  ward  the  enchanted  ground. 

The  tired  sloop  that  knew  these  places  all, 
Was  filled  anon  with  roistering  mirth, 

As  when  a  horse,  in  sight  of  well-filled  stall, 
Neighs,  eager  for  his  cozy  berth. 

The  porpoises  jumped  round  the  Pioneer, 
Like  dogs  that  hail  their  master  home  ; 

And  from  the  farm-yard,  shrill  old  chanticleer 
Crowed  out  his  joy  to  see  her  come. 

And  soon  came,  gathering  down  upon  the  beach, 

Men,  women,  little  girls  and  boys, 
To  welcome  her  approach  within  the  reach 

Of  their  vociferated  joys. 

'T  was  then  the  captain  brought  his  trumpet  forth*, 
With  blasts  that  drove  the  mists  away, 

On  trembling  echoes,  to  the  breezy  North, 
And  waked  with  smiles  the  dozing  day. 

Then  ordered  he  the  look-out  to  mast-head, 
To  watch  if  white-caps  should  appear  ; 

And  Hank  stood  at  the  bows  to  cast  the  lead ; 
And  captain  at  the  helm  to  steer. 


48  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  yawl-boat  then  was  manned,  and  with  a  rope 
And  well-pulled  oars,  made  fast  the  shore  ; 

And  ere  the  sun  had  left  the  grassy  slope 
The  good  sloop's  voyage  was  safely  o'er. 

That  night  Van  Horn,  upon  the  tavern  stoop 
Rehearsed  her  trip,  till  he  had  shown, 

To  all  his  drowsy  listeners,  that  the  sloop 
Had  made  the  quickest  passage  known. 


VIII. 
TAPPAN. 

THE  WAYSIDE  INN. 

THUS  far  friend  Rip  hath  prosperous  been, 

In  perils  by  the  flood  ; 
We  only  hope  that  on  the  land 

His  luck  may  be  as  good. 

And  sure  it  is  he  did  appear 

In  goodly  company ; 
For  all  did  love  the  Pioneer 

Who  dwelt  on  Tappan  Zee. 

And  he  could  speak  Low  Dutch,  of  course, 
Fresh  from  its  fountain-head  ; 


TAPPAN.  49 

And  seemed  to  be  a  bachelor, 
Some  day  might  wish  to  wed. 

Nor  Friendship  was  in  those  young  days 

Much  chary  of  her  charms, 
But  threw  about  the  stranger's  neck 

Her  hospitable  arms. 

And  more  than  all  they  needed  then, 

For  growing  State  begun, 
To  help  the  population,  men  ; 

And  our  good  Rip  was  one. 

Therefore  was  he  most  welcome  there, 

In  ancient,  brave  Tappan ; 
And  found  the  latch-strings  all  outside, 

Because  he  was  a  man. 

But  Rip  Van  Dam,  the  captain  bold, 

On  board  the  Rollicker, 
Had  told  him  of  his  Tappan  niece, 

And  he  must  look  for  her. 

Her  husband  kept  the  Wayside  Inn, 

Beside  the  Sparkle  Creek, 
A  homelike  place,  and  there  would  Rip 

A  home  and  lodging  seek. 


50  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Her  husband's  name  was  Hans  Yan  Horn, 

Twin-brother  born  was  he 
Of  Dant  Van  Horn,  with  whom  good  Rip 

Had  sailed  to  Tappan  Zee. 

A  mighty  drinker,  Hans  Van  Horn, 
Who  kept  the  Wayside  Inn, 

And  far  and  near  was  famous  for 
His  flips  and  Holland  gin. 

And  all  the  country,  far  and  near, 

For  frolic  and  for  dance, 
Would  gather,  of  a  winter's  night, 

In  tavern  kept  by  Hans. 

And  lively  were  the  feet  that  pressed 

That  Wayside  Inn  of  old, 
Where  all  the  news  from  all  around 

Was  daily  brought  and  told. 

But  better  far  for  Hans  Van  Horn 

Had  he  not  kept  the  Inn  ; 
And  for  his  wife  and  our  friend  Rip 

It  had  far  better  been. 


ENSCONCED  and  snugly  housed,  now  Rip  began 
To  find  himself  a  most  important  man  ; 


THE   CLEARING.  51 

Neighbors  and  friends  he  found,  on  every  side, 
Where  he  had  thought  to  see  a  desert  wide. 
They  came  to  question,  and  to  give  advice, 
As  neighbors  always  must,  with  judgment  nice, 
And  offer  land  for  sale,  at  any  price. 
No  Yankee  profits  here,  they  bought  it  low, 
And,  honor  bright,  they  meant  to  sell  it  so  ; 
And  so  they  did :  I  wish  their  children  did 
Just  long  enough  for  me  to  make  a  bid  ; 
I  'd  have  a  farm,  as  Rip  soon  found  he  had  ; 
And  farms,  where  land  is  good,  are  not  so  bad. 
Rip  made  good  use  of  his,  as  time  will  show  ; 
For  time  it  took  to  fit  it  for  the  plough  ; 
With  axe  and  team,  with  strength  of  arm  and  toil, 
To  clear  the  trees  off,  and  to  grub  the  soil ; 
With  stake  and  rail  to  quickly  snake  it  round, 
Ere  first  he  cast  the  seed  into  the  ground, 
Hoping  to  build  a  fence  some  day  to  last, 
When  his  first  hurry  should  be  overpast. 
Here  too  the  neighbors  showed  their  kindly  hearts 
By  coming  with  their  stone-boats,  teams,  and  carts, 
To  help  the  toiling  Rip,  and  cheer  him  on, — 
A  good  Dutch  custom  not  entirely  gone. 
Thus  scarce  three  months  had  passed  ere  Rip  was 

cheered 

By  goodly  stretch  of  land  all  grubbed  and  cleared, 
And   broken  up,  and  fenced,  and  ploughed,  and 
sowed ; 


52  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Whereat  his  honest  heart  with  pleasure  glowed, 
And  cheerful  smiles  upon  his  well-bronzed  face 
Did  show  that  Labor  hath  his  crown  of  grace. 


MIGHTY  the  farmer  in  the  days  of  old, 

"Who  cleared  the  forests  for  a  glorious  State  ; 

And  laid  foundations,  better  far  than  gold, 
To  make  her  temple  strong  and  truly  great ; 
One  that  the  people  love,  and  tyrants  hate. 

He  cleft  the  woods,  to  let  the  sunshine  in ; 
He  cleft  the  earth,  to  let  the  gold  flow  out ; 

And  riches,  science,  art,  have  ever  been 
The  fair  dependants  on  his  labor  stout, 
Whom  spangled  drones  regard  an  awkward  lout. 

The  founders  of  old  Rome,  twin-brothers  they, 
Were  suckled  by  an  old  she-wolf,  or  bear ; 

Pizarro  sucked  a  sow,  in  his  young  day ; 
And  many  others  who  true  honors  wear 
Must  with  their  honor  some  dishonor  share. 

But  crowns  of  evergreen  be  on  their  brow 
Who  rear  a  nation  while  they  till  the  earth ! 

More  honored  they  than  jewelled  idler  now 
And  evermore  ;  for  that  their  toil  gives  birth 
To  corn,  and  oil,  and  wine,  and  harvest  mirth. 


BONES  AND  SINEWS.  53 

Stop  we  their  work  and  all  the  world  grows  pale :  . 
The  factories  hush  their  busy  noise  and  din, 

Banks  tumble  down,   Trade   stops  her   bartering 

sale, 

The  wings  of  Commerce  droop  ;  and  pale  and  thin 
Gaunt  Famine  eats  the  land  outside  and  in. 

The  ruler  and  the  subject,  good  and  bad, 
The  banker,  doctor,  lawyer,  parson,  priest, 

And  layman,  painter,  poet,  sane  or  mad,  -r- 
All  the  way  down  from  greatest  to  the  least,  — 
Gnawing  a  bone,  or  stuffing  at  a  feast ! 

The  wise,  the  fool,  the  poor,  the  rich,  the  gay, 
The  low,  the  high,  the  short  boys  and  the  tall, 

Profane,  or  pious,  howsoe'er  they  pray, 

In  Church  and  State,  the  great  men  and  the 

small, 
Must  feed  on  farmers,  or  not  feed  at  all. 

All  honor  then  to  farmers  and  their  wives ! 

Long  may  they  live,  and  long  may  they  abound  ; 
Prolific  be  their  labors  and  their  lives  ; 

May  all  their  crops  be  full,  and  plump,  and 
sound, 

To  keep  ours  full,  that  none  be  empty  found. 


54  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

WHO  has  a  farm  must  also  have  a  house  ; 

Who  keeps  a  bird  must  needs  possess  a  cage  ; 
Rip's  longing  heart  sighed  for  his  absent  spouse  ; 

In  all  his  work  she  did  his  thoughts  engage, 

As  guardian  angel  of  his  heritage. 

On  Sparkle  Creek  he  marked  his  homestead  site, 
And  first  of  all  set  out  a  cherry-tree, 

And  named  it  for  Katrine,  and  morn  and  night, 
Ere  work  began,  and  when  from  labor  free, 
Knelt  there  and  prayed  for  her  beyond  the  sea. 

He  watched  it  well,  and  nursed  it  with  the  care 
That  widowed  mothers  show  a  tender  child. 

It  scarcely  drooped  but  seemed  his  life  to  share  ; 
And  day  and  night  Katrina's  spirit  mild 
Came  there  to  cheer  him  in  the  lonely  wild. 

The  hardy  burghers,  with  true  sympathy 
For  him  and  his  Katrine,  would,  by  and  by, 

Unite  to  build  his  cabin,  labor  free  ; 

But  first  would  finish,  with  the  favoring  sky, 
A  Holy  House  to  Him  who  rules  on  high. 

That  sacred  work  was  long  ago  begun, 

With  cheerful  heart  and  with  a  ready  will ; 

And  free-will  offerings  came  from  every  one  ; 
But  scant  their  means  and  rude  their  rustic  skill., 
Which  left  their  pious  toil  unfinished  still. 


THE  PRIMAL    TEMPLE.  55 

But  destined  soon  by  that  industrious  race, 
Complete  and  dedicate  with  prayer,  to  stand, 

A  sign  devout  of  the  supernal  grace, 

Which  led  them  through  the  sea  by  His  right 

hand, 
And  gave  them  to  possess  this  goodly  land. 

Meanwhile  they  worshiped  in  the  solemn  grove, 
With  old  Dutch    psalms  that  made  the  welkin 

ring, 

And  prayers  as  grateful  to  the  Eternal  Love 
As  well-set  phrase  and  song  which  art  can  bring, 
In   frescoed    church,  to   please    the    Almighty 
King. 

The  temple  where  they  worshiped  was  His  own  ; 
Not  made  with  hands.     Nr  skill  of  man  could 


raise 
An  edifice  so  worthy  of  His  Throne 

As  that  where  they  did  meet,  on  Sabbath  days, 
To  read  the  Word,  and  render  prayer  and  praise. 

The  leafy.  roof,  the  mossy  seat,  the  vine 

That   hung,  with  clustering  grapes,  from  oak- 
trees  high, 

In  rich  festoons,  like  drapery  divine  ; 

The  slanting  sunlight  from  the  open  sky,  — 
A  symbol  of  the  great,  All-seeing  Eye  ; 


56  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  tapering  pine-tree's  coned  and  lofty  spire ; 
The  solemn  stillness  of  the  wilderness  ; 

The  songs  of  birds  that  mingled  with  the  choir ; 
The  flowing  brook,  like  Kedron,  formed  to  bless 
The  thirsty  pilgrim,  fainting  with  distress ; 

The  time  ;  the  place  ;  the  quiet  all  around ; 
The  still  small  voice  within  that   called   them 

there ; 

And  His  great  Presence,  made  it  holy  ground ; 
While  zephyrs  poised,  like  angels,  in  the  air, 
Waiting   to   waft   to  heaven   their   praise   arid 
prayer. 

Such  worship,  in  those  young  and  earnest  days, 
On  holy  time,  in  such  a  temple  grand, 

By  pious  men,  of  pure  and  simple  ways, 
As  were  our  fathers  from  the  fatherland, 
Brought  blessings  down  from  Heaven's  unstinted 
hand. 

For  "  Heaven  will  help  the  men  who  help  them 
selves," 
And  He  will  honor  them  who  honor  Him. 

Good  luck  comes  not  from  stars,  nor  fairy  elves  ; 
Nor  can  blind  Fortune,  with  her  eye-balls  dim, 
Fill  up  our  cup  of  pleasure  to  the  brim. 


SUCCESSFUL  MAN.  57 

Their  cup  was  full,  for  they  were  well  content ; 
Their  wants  were  few,  and  these  were  well  sup 
plied. 
As   time   flew  by  they   earned   more   than   they 

spent ; 

And  with  enough,  and  stores  laid  up  beside, 
These  simple-minded  men  were  satisfied. 

Places,  and  times,  and  tastes,  have  changed  since 

then ; 
And  men  have  changed,  and  set  their  standard 

higher, 
So  that  none  has  enough  while  other  men 

Have  more ;  and  love  of  gold  and  pride  conspire 
To  burn  men  up  with  their  consuming  fire. 

In  those  o-ood  times  a  son  of  Santa  Glaus 

O 

Successful  deemed  himself,  and  well  to  do, 
If  he  the  owner  of  a  homestead  was, 

With    heart    and   hands    to   work     a    lifetime 

through  ; 
Content  with  many  acres,  or  a  few. 

His  wholesome  toil  brought  pleasant  sleep  at  night ; 
His  pleasant  sleep  prepared  him  for  the  day  ; 

The  seasons  brought  him  ever  new  delight, 
From  year  to  year,  until  he  passed  away, 
With  all  his  work  well  done,  as  good  men  may. 


58  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

But  now  successful  man  means  millionaire ; 
And  millionaire  means  all  a  man  can  get, 

In  any  way  he  can,  by  foul  or  fair, 

No  matter  how  it  cause  his  soul  to  fret, 
Or  make  his  creditors  and  conscience  sweat. 

Successful  man  drinks  all  the  wine  he  will ; 

Successful  man  eats  more  than  he  can  bear  ; 
Lives  in  a  larger  house  than  he  can  fill ; 

And  buys  more  clothes  than  he  knows  how  to 
wear ; 

And  swelleth  much  at  his  great  bill  of  fare. 

Successful  man  must  bear  his  bags  of  gold, 

Through  life,  well-balanced  on  his  aching  head ; 

Whereby  he  groweth  bald,  and  gray,  and  old ; 
And  when  he  dies  his  loving  heirs,  'tis  said, 
Do  more  rejoice  than  mourn  that  he  is  dead. 

Successful  man  must  leave  a  golden  son, 

With  waxen  wings,  to  fly  and  bear  his  name, 

And  spend  the  fortune  which  his  father  won, 
Till  waxen  wings  are  melted  in  the  flame ; 
Then  sink  forgotten  in  oblivious  shame. 

Is  it  not  well  to  look,  with  longing  eyes, 

On  manners  of  the  old  and  rugged  days  ? 
And  well  their  honored  men  once  more  to  prize, 


SUCCESSFUL  MAN.  59 

And  seek  their  simple  paths  and  pleasant  ways 
Where  rustic  virtue  made  their  name  a  praise. 

The  fortunes  which  they  left  their  growing  heirs 
Were  stalwart  limbs,  with  hearts  to  use  them 

well, 

Good  fathers'  counsels,  and  good  mothers'  prayers, 
The  tongues  that  knew  and  dared  the  truth  to 

tell, 
And  manly  souls  where  honor  loved  to  dwell. 

These  were  the  men  who  served  their  Maker  first, 
Then  helped  their  neighbor,  helped    our  good 
friend  Rip  ; 

Not  troubled  they,  like  Tantalus,  with  thirst, 
While  standing  up  in  water  to  the  lip, 
Which  when  he  tried  to  drink  gave  him  the  slip. 

Nor  tortured  they  by  Grreed,  which  hungers  yet, 
No  matter  how  you  stuff  and  cram  his  crop  ; 

Which  asks  for  more  the  more  his  cravings  get ; 
Nor  lets  his  toiling  slaves  his  feeding  stop 
Till,  worn  to  death,  their  hands  in  palsy  drop. 

Nor  doomed  to  dungeons  cold  of  selfishness,  — 
To  eat  and  drink  in  darkness  and  alone ; 

Cut  off  from  sounds  of  joy  and  of  distress, 
And  every  living,  human  chord  and  tone 
That  tells  us  Man  is  our  own  flesh  and  bone. 


CO  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

They  took  their  pleasure  in  each  other's  joy ; 

They  suffered  in  a  brother's  loss,  or  pain  ; 
For  others'  good  they  gladly  did  employ 

Their  time  and  toil,  as  free  as  sun  and  rain ; 

And  felt  enriched  at  lucky  neighbor's  gain. 

So  now  that  gay  October  had  begun 

To  weave  his  many-colored  robe  and  crown, 

And  that  the  Sacred  Edifice  was  done, 

Rip's  cabin  must  go  up  in  their  good  town, 
Was  their  decree  most  firmly  written  down. 

And  far  and  wide  they  published  the  decree, 
Which  far  and  wide  no  man  would  disobey ; 

So  fixed  the  mandate,  though  all  men  were  free, 
Not  one  in  all  the  land  would  stay  away, 
With  willing  mind,  on  the  appointed  day. 


IX. 

THE  FROLIC. 

To  hew  and  cut  the  logs,  and  help  to  raise 
And  build  the  cabin,  all  the  neighbors  came. 

A  Frolic  this,  in  Knickerbocker  phrase, 

A  Bee,  with  those  of  Yankee  blood  and  fame  ; 

For  work  was  pleasure  in  those  early  days, 


TEE  FROLIC.  61 

As  pleasure  work  in  ours,  by  change  of  name  ; 
So  much  for  us  the  greater  sin  and  shame. 

They  came  from  every  quarter,  old  and  young, 
The  stout  athletic  man,  and  robust  boy  ; 

With   keen-edged    axe   in    hand,    and  sharpened 

tongue ; 
As  thick  as  heroes  at  the  siege  of  Troy, 

Though  not  as  tall.     But  better  heroes  they  ;  — 
They  came  to  make  ;  those  others  to  destroy  : 

They  came  for  peace  ;  but  those  for  bloody  fray  : 
They  came  to  build  ;  those  others  to  pull  down  : 
Which  makes  material  difference  to  a  town. 

From  dozy  Tarrytown,  and  Dobbs  his  ferry, 
And  Sleepy  Hollow,  o'er  the  Hudson  wide, 

Came  many  a  burgher,  with  his  Buck  and  Berry  ; 
With  shoulders  broad,  with  strong  and  sinewy 
stride, 

And  mirthful  songs,  which  made  the  echoes  merry 
Leap  from  their  caves  to  dance  upon  the  tide, 
And  old  Hook  Mountain  shake  his  shaggy  side. 

Scarce  had  the  stars  forsook  the  waning  night 
Ere  they  were  up  and  wending  on  their  way, 

For  that  their  toil  began  with  early  light, 
And  ended  with  the  ending  of  the  day  ; 

Nor  did  neglect  the  morning's  sacred  rite, 


62  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

In  busy  haste  to  reach  the  Frolic  gay  ; 

Nor  though  they  laughed  did  they  forget  to  pray. 

Old  Tappan  Zee  did  glory  in  these  men, 

Arid  held  her  mirrors  up  to  see  their  faces, 
While  they  crossed  o'er  her  bosom ;  so  that  when 
They  somewhat  looked  for  storms  they  saw  no 

traces 

Of  angry  mood,  though  every  now  and  then, 
Their  timid  breakfasts   changed   their  natural 

places 
For  watery  depths,  'mong  fish  of  various  races. 

At  length,  by  nautic  skill,  they  reached  the  land, 
On  neighborly  errand  eager  and  intent  ; 

And  hastening  on  to  lend  a  helping  hand 

They  waked  the  woods  with  jolly  merriment ;  — 

A  hearty  and  as-  happy  rustic  band 

As  could  be  gathered  on  a  continent ;  — 
Old  men  and  yonkers  on  the  Frolic  bent. 

First  came  the  Vans,  the  foremost  men  in  name, 
And   numerous,   broad,   and   sometimes   trusty 

men ; 

Van  Wart,  in  after  years  well  known  to  fame ; 
Van  Benschoten ;  Van  Tassels  of  the  glen  ; 
Van  Hoevenburgh;   Van  Schaick;   Van  Bergen 
(Ben)  ; 


THE   TRIBES.  63 

The  twin  Van  Horns,  —  Dant,  famous  for  his  wind, 
And  Hans  the  mighty  drinker  of  those  days  ; 
And  following  these,  came,  dancing,  close  behind, 
Van  Topps,  whom  children  loved  to  praise  ;  - 
Author  was  he  of  happiness  to  boys, 
And  skilled  artificer  of  spinning-toys. 
Then  came  Van  Dyke,  whose  giant  ancestry 
Dragged  half-drowned    Holland,   drenching,  from 

the  sea,  — 

(Nor  should  the  pygmy  bearing  that  great  name 
Obscure  the  effulgence  of  its  ancient  fame.) 
Next  Rip  Van  Dam,  surnamed  the  Roarer,  came,  - 
Amphibious  he,  and  webbed  of  foot  and  hand  ; 
Van  Buren  next,  from  whom  sprang  Martin  and 
Prince  John,  illustrious  burghers  of  the  land. 
Then    the    Vancliefs,   Vanbliefs,   and    sharp   Van 

Zandts, 
Van   Houghtens,  and  Van   Nostrands,  and   Van 

Gantz, 

Van  Giesons,  and  Van  Nests,  and  old  Van  Hatch  ; 
And  broods  of  yonkers  following,  to  match  ; 
And  last  Van  Bung,  with  load  of  needful  pans, 
Closed  up  the  rear  of  all  the  tribe  of  Vans. 
Then  came  far-sighted,  good  Jacobus  See, 
Surnamed  Forecaster,  and  ordained  to  be 
The  father  of  a  numerous  family. 
Next  him  great  Michael  Pauw  ;  ancestor  he 
Of  Huge  Paws,  of  the  fierce  democracy, 


64  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  Pugilists,  —  (degenerate  in  our  days) ; 

And  founder  he  of  the  illustrious  town 

Yclept  Communipaw,  in  modern  phrase, 

But  then,  Commune  of  Pauw,  of  brave  renown. 

With  him  came  Carl,  son  of  the  elder  Carl, 

And  builder,  in  due  time,  of  Carl  his  Mill ; 

Then  Barnes  the  blacksmith,  famous  for  the  snarl 

In  which  he  got,  at  trial  of  his  skill 

At  quoits,  with  doughty  Peek,  at  Peek  his  Kiln ; 

Then  last,  from  Sleepy  Hollow,  in  the  rear, 

Well  known  for  reticence  and  quiet  cheer, 

Came  Knapp,  inventor  of  the  easy  chair 

And    home-made   lounges    stuffed  with  husks  of 


o 

corn. 


Hatcheled  like  flax,  to  save  the  cost  of  hair  ; 
Renowned  for  these,  but  most  of  all  renowned 
As  first  male  child  in  Sleepy  Hollow  born, 
And  lineal  descendant,  son,  and  heir 
Of  the  Patroon  of  that  enchanted  ground,  — 
Van  Dozen  Knapp,  its  great  discoverer. 

These  joined  the  Nyackers,  with  loud  hurras, 
And  other  doughty  and  huge-lifting  men, 
Who  came,  with  solid  tramp,  from  hill  and  glen, 
All  armed  with  crowbars,  chains,  and  iron  claws  ; 
The  Mildeberghers,  Rosencranz,  and  Frees  ; 
The  mighty  Millspaughs,  builders  they  of  dams  ; 
The  Dunspaughs,  —  town  collectors  ;  Minnerlys,  - 
Great  hunters  they  of  squirrels,  great  on  clams, 


THE   GREAT  ELECT.  65 

Wild-pigeons,  and  the  run  "of  shad  ;  the  Keese  ; 
The  Hammonds,  famous  for  the  cure  of  hams ; 
The  Boise,  Duboise,  the  De  Bevoise,  and  Glaus  ; 
The  Hasbroucks,  Snedekers,  and  Monelaus. 

Such  were  the  mighty  men  who  came  to  build 
And  lay  foundation  for  Van  Bigham's  house, 
With  generous  heart  and  lofty  purpose  filled, 
To  bring  from  Faderland  his  absent  spouse. 

O  happy  Nation  !  happy  family  ! 
And  every  tribe  and  clan  below  the  skies ! 
And  almost  every  one,  on  land,  or  sea, 
That  has  a  head  proportioned  to  his  size ! 
That  will  and  purpose,  plan  and  policy, 
May  keep  the  hands  and  feet  from  anarchy. 

The  folks  of  Tappan  Zee  in  this  were  wise. 
From  all  their  weightiest  men  they  picked  out  two 
Who  were  preeminent  in  weight  and  size, 
Either  of  whom  for  Head  would  surely  do ;  — 
The  one  from  Nyack,  one  from  Tarry  town, 
'Twixt  whom  to  choose   their  Ruler,   Head,  and 

Guide, 

For  all  that  busy  day  till  sun  went  down  ; 
Then  to  the  steel-yard  balance  hung  them  each  ; 
And  weighed  them  fairly  ;  standing  all  aside, 
Lest  some  designing  hand  might  overreach, 
And  turn  the  scales  in  favor  of  his  choice  ; 
And   he   who   weighed    the  most   received   their 
voice 


66  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  vote,  unanimous,  with  loud  acclaim  ; 
Shouting  and  yelling  forth  their  leader's  name. 

The  conquered  candidate  was  Rick  Dubois ; 
The  conqueror,  Diedrich  Scraalenburgh,  the  scribe  ; 
Who  weighed  the  most,  ten  pounds  avoirdupois, 
So  he  was  chosen  Ruler  of  the  tribe. 

Undue  proportion  was  his  only  fault ; 
He  was  most  perfect  in  his  appetite, 
But  showed  the  bulging  pressure  of  much  malt ; 
Was  willing  every  dog  should  have  his  bite, 
And  every  tired  man  from  work  should  halt : 
He  always  knew  that  he  was  always  right : 
Born  to  command,  he  loved  preeminence ; 
And  had  he  not  grown  broader  than  his  length, 
And  waddled  in  his  walk  ;  and  had  his  sense 
Kept  equal  pace  with  his  great  size  and  strength. 
And  had  his  stomach  not  outgrown  his  head, 
In  disproportion  vast  and  cumbersome, — 
Their  chosen  chief,  as  they  most  truly  said, 
So  great  his  will,  might  easily  have  clomb 
To  any  height  ambition  bade  him  come  ! 
But  circumstances,  owing  to  his  size, 
And  love  of  malt,  had  ordered  otherwise. 

The  Great  Elect  stood  forth,  with  modest  pride, 
And  took  the  helm  of  power,  intent  to  guide 
All  other  wills,  as  Frolic  laws  provide  ;  — 
That  no  two  forces  pull  in  opposite  ways, 
The  lop;  with  ox-team  hitched  at  either  end ; 


THE   GREAT  ELECT.  67 

And  none  stand  idle,  with  a  puzzled  gaze, 
Not  knowing  where  a  helping  hand  to  lend. 

He  mounting  on  a  cart-tail  for  a  throne, 
With  ox-goad  for  a  sceptre,  gave  commands,  — 
The  chosen  Head  with  doughty  tongue  and  tone, 
To  ready  feet  and  willing,  toiling  hands  ; 
And  set  the  times  when  they  should  take  a  drink, 
And   smoke   their  pipes,  and   breathe  the  teams 

awhile. 

As  with  the  body  't  is  the  head  must  think 
For  all  the  lower  parts ;  in  some  such  style 
The  common  people  needs  must  have  a  Head, 
To  do  their  thinking,  work  their  wisdom  out, 
Or  show  a  due  authority  instead  ;  — 
With  chosen  policy  for  learned  and  lout;  — 
That  hands  and  feet  may  know  what  they're  about. 

These  all  obeyed,  and  did  their  several  work  : 
No  sluggards  there  ;  but  hearty  and  alive  : 
None  wished  to  spare  himself,  nor  tried  to  shirk ; 
Nor  was  a  drone  in  all  that  busy  hive 
Of  men,  whose  rule  was,  They  who  work  shall 
thrive. 

The  ready  trees  scarce  waited  for  the  axe 
Ere,  falling  quick,  they  came,  well-trimmed  and 

straight, 

To  test  the  strength  of  sturdy  Dutchmen's  backs. 
(Log-rolling  is  an  easier  craft  of  late, 
And  source  of  honor,  both  in  Church  and  State.) 


68  ONE   WIFE    TOO  MANY. 

Down  from  the  craggy  woods  with  easy  grade, 
The  logs  are  snagged ;  and  all  the  yielding  soil 
Is  marked  by  ridges  which  their  courses  made, 
Like  honest  wrinkles  on  the  face  of  toil : 
And  soon  all  notched,  in  row  on  row,  are  laid 
At  the  selected  site,  by  Sparkle  Brook. 

The  cellar,  opened  by  the  delving  spade, 
Receives  its  rough  stone  walls,  with  cheery  look  ; 
While  far  and  near  the  peaceful  vale  rebounds 
With  Labor's  quick,  reverberating  sounds  ; 
And  all  the  air  of  bright  October  seems 
Alive  with  voices,  speaking  to  their  teams. 
The  scolding  squirrels  stop  chattering  in  the  tree, 
And  look  to  learn  what  all  the  noise  can  be  ; 
And  then  berate  the  workmen  saucily  ! 
The  watching  quails,   perplexed  by  strange  new 

fates, 

Whistle  their  signal-notes,  to  warn  their  mates  ; 
And  in  reply  the  signs  each  imitates. 
The  crows  are  cawing  at  camp-meeting  rates, 
Foretelling  new  corn-fields,  with  wealth  of  food, 
And  much  rejoice,  as  prophets  of  the  wood 
And  hungry,  happy,  black-coat  preachers  should 
Who  wear  such  sable  garbs,  at  coming  good. 

Thus  for  a  season  all  passed  peacefully ; 
As  busy  hive,  directed  by  queen-bee, 
Or  noisy  brooklet,  running  to  the  sea ; 
For  work  and  mirth  embracing,  tripped  along, 
As  instruments  keep  time  with  vocal  song. 


TOPSY-TURVY.  69 

Then  suddenly  a  little  breeze  arose, 
Like  murrnurings  of  the  brewing  of  a  storm  ; 
And  soon  the  cloud  assumed  a  giant  form. 
Like   great  from  small,  it   grew  from   Diedrich's 

nose  ; 
This  lacked  the  natural  bridge,  whose   arch-like 

swells 

Kind  Nature  makes  to  hold  one's  spectacles  ; 
Hence  Diedrich's  often  gave  his  nose  the  slip, 
Nor  rested  till  they  reached  its  fiery  tip  : 
And  so  it  came  to  pass,  while  in  this  plight, 
He  saw  things  in  a  double  sort  of  light :  — 
The  logs  which  first  seemed  large  anon  looked 

small, 

And  here  and  there  were  some  not  seen  at  all. 
Thereby  some  strange  mistakes  had  just  occurred, 
Which  some  one  hinted  with  a  timid  word ; 
And  this  changed  Diedrich's  smile  into  a  frown  ; 
And  this  built  Rip's  log-cabin  upside  down  I 
Bad  sign,  said  they,  who  gabbled  of  such  signs,  — 
Van  Giesons  chief  of  these,  and  Landerines. 
"  Do  as  I  say  !  "  the  doughty  Leader  said, 
"  Let  not  the  Hands  rebel  against  the  Head  !  " 
Then  broad  foundation-logs  were  topmost  laid  ; 
And  those  that  should  be  topmost  underneath. 
Great  Diedrich's  wrath,  like  broadsword  from  its 

sheath, 

Leaped  from  his  choleric  stomach,  sharp  and  quick. 
They  saw  it  coming,  heard  its  fearful  click. 


70  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

As  from  its  depths  it  sprang ;  nor  waited  they 
To  feel  its  edge,  but  hastened  to  obey. 

But  still  his  wrath  poured  forth ;  an  oath  it  bore 
Which  turned  the  cabin  round,  back  side  before, 
And  brought  the  gable-end  close  to  the  road ! 
And  still  he  raged.     Shaking  his  huge  ox-goad 
He  thus  addressed  the  awe-struck  Frolickers  :  — 
u  Who  is  it  dares  to  contravene  my  word  ? 
My  will  ?  my  Policy  ?  you  stubborn  curs  ! 
Can  I  not  see  ?     Do  I  not  bear  the  sword  ? 
Are  eyes  for  nothing  ?     These  nigh  logs,  I  know, 
Are  much  the  larger.     Do  I  not  know  logs  ? 
Have  I  not  rolled  and  rolled  them,  many  a  day  ? 
How  dare  you  then  affirm  it  is  not  so  ? 
Can  I  not  tell  young  sucking-pigs  from  hogs  ? 
The  big  from  little  ?     Go  to  work  !  I  say  : 
Don't  contradict,  but  listen  and  obey  ! 
What  is  the  Head  for  but  to  have  his  way  ? 
I  '11  put  it  to  the  people  !  —  they  agree 
That  I  shall  carry  out  my  Policy. 
I  'm  here  to  rule  ;  and  boys  !  for  mercy  sakes, 
Don't  rile  me  with  your  blundering  mistakes  !  " 
'T  was  vain  to  hint  about  his  failing  eyes, 
And  slippery  spectacles,  —  that  just  before 
He  'd  ordered  these  same  logs  contrariwise  ; 
That  he  was  one,  and  they  at  least  three-score  ; 
And  sixty  pair  of  eyes  were  better  than 
The  single  pair  of  any  li ving  man  : 


GABLE-ENDS.  71 

A  live  volcano  was  his  burning  wrath, 
Which  only  poured  forth  fiery  words  the  more, 
The  more  they  tried  to  turn  or  dam  its  path. 
When  cool,  their  blunders  filled  him  with  surprise ; 
His  eyes  were  worth  a  thousand  other  eyes  ! 
\Vith  such  a  pair  of  specs  to  help  his  sight! 
And  what  he  knew  he  knew,  —  knew  he  was  right ; 
He  hated  stubbornness,  that  dreadful  evil, 
As  much  as  common  men  could  hate  the  devil. 

'T  was  thus  by  Diedrich's  wrathful  will  and  frown 
That  Rip  Van  Bigham's  house  was  upside  down. 
And  thus  by  that  huge,  mighty  oath  he  swore 
Rip's  house  was  turned  about,  hindside  before  ; 
And  by  the  shaking  of  his  great  ox-goad 
The  gable-end  stood  plump  against  the  road. 
Thus  oft  doth  right  succumb  to  mighty  wrong, 
Through  lack  of  power  to  help  itself  along. 

The  gable-end  so  tickled  all  the  vrouws 
It  soon  became  the  rage  for  every  house  ; 
And  Fashion  spread  her  mandates  far  and  wide, 
Till  gable-ends  were  signs  of  taste  and  pride, 
Down  Hudson's  glorious  river,  side  by  side, 
As  far  as  Gotham  and  Communipaw  ; 
And  up  the  river  far  as  good  Dutch  law 
And  good  Dutch  sloops  with  safety  could  ascend, 
The  rage  prevailed  for  Diedrich's  gable-end,  — 
A  fashion  born  of  freak,  and  not  intent, 
Like  great  discoveries  made  by  accident. 


72  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  Fashion  makes  amends  for  many  sins, 
And  in  the  end  both  wise  and  foolish  wins. 

But  nothing  good  has  ever  yet  been  known 
From  Rip's  log-cabin  being  upside  down  ; 
And  Diedrich's  nose  has  much  to  answer  for, 
As  cause,  though  small,  of  mighty  ills  it  bore. 
Bad  sign,  to  start  with,  when  a  house  is  made 
Without  foundation  well  and  wisely  laid. 
Its  upper  works  are  weak  and  ill-secure, 
And  all  between  is  neither  safe  nor  sure, 
But  topsy-turvy,  with  confusion  wed, 
The  house  seems  always  standing  on  its  head. 

Alas  !  the  signs  proved  true  ;  they  came  to  pass. 
Alas,  for  Rip  !  for  human  hopes,  alas  ! 
In  those  old  times  when  witches  rode  the  air, 
And  ghosts  came  out  to  walk  the  earth  at  night, 
When    nightmare-tramps    were   neither    few    nor 

fair  ; 

When  death-ticks,  and  the  fearful  second-sight, 
And  goblin  freaks  were  common  everywhere  ; 
They  more  prevailed  in  country  than  in  town, 
But  most  of  all  in  houses  upside  down. 

So  in  our  times,  and  in  a  similar  way, 
When  devils  are  allowed  a  holiday, 
And  evil  spirits,  long  in  limbo  pent, 
Come  back  to  earth,  "  to  see  the  elephant," 
They  all  with  one  consent,  for  quarters,  seek 
The  crazy  house  whose  corner-stone  is  weak, 


SPIRITS.  73 

Or  whose  foundations  are  mere  cobble-stones. 

At  these  they  knock  their  skeleton  knuckle-bones ; 

In  them  they  hold  their  weird  and  revel-rout ; 

Their  tables  turn,  — turn  Hades  inside  out; 

Tell  them  the  secrets  of  the  burning  marl, 

To  put  the  peaceful  family  in  a  snarl ; 

And  let  them  see,  by  special  friendly  boon, 

What  most  men  fear  they  '11  see  and   know   too 

soon. 

And  fierce  chained  angels,  let  out  on  paroles 
Of  honor,  from  their  prison-pens  in  hell, 
For  respite  from  the  work  of  torturing  souls, 
And  few  days'  sport  with  mortals,  love  to  dwell 
In  homes  like  these  until  their  time  is  up  ;  — 
Eat  at  their  tables,  drink  the  self-same  cup ; 
Sleep  in  their  garrets,  cellars,  empty  rooms  ; 
And  telegraph,  by  knocks,  men's  hidden  dooms ; 
Tell  lies   and  grin  like  imps  through  these   kind 

friends 

As  medium  ;  till  the  farce,  or  worse  thing  ends  ; 
Then  back  again  to  Hades,  there  to  burn, 
And  wait  a  visit  from  their  friends  in  turn. 

But  why  anticipate  the  troublous  day, 
In  the  dim  distance,  still  so  far  away  ? 
Why  in  the  sunshine  dread  the  future  storm 
Which  robes  in  light  its  dark  and  misty  form  ? 


74  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Rip's  house   went  up,   and   that   was   something 

gained ; 

Though  somewhat  awkward-built  and  rudely  paned ; 
And  all  that  day  the  bright  October  sun 
Smiled  on  the  work  kind  hearts  and  hands  had 

done ; 

Nor  sank  to  rest  until  he  saw  the  roof 
Completely  on,  and  almost  water-proof; 
And  a  huge  chimney  standing  out  to  guard, 
As  faithful  sentinel,  the  house  and  yard  ;  — 
This  done  he  slept,  first  putting  out  his  light, 
And  snored  on  golden  pillows  all  the  night. 
Then  had  the  Dutchmen  done  a  good  day's  toil, 
And  they  too  rested ;  cleansing  first  the  soil 
From  honest  hands  as  Nature  ever  made, 
To  rear  a  house,  or  hold  a  plough  or  spade. 

Good  Rip  was  thanking  them,  in  simple  speech, 
But  more  by  looks  than  what  his  tongue  could  say ; 
For  all  his  words  seemed  loitering  by  the  way,  — 
As  if  their  journey's  end  they  'd  never  reach,  — 
When   shrill   the    conch-horn    sounded   forth   the 

feast,  — 
The  Frolic-feast,  succeeding  Frolic-work. 

The  noontide  meal  that  day,  for  man  and  beast, 
Was  stout  but  short ;  the  evening's  none  will  shirk  ; 
Each  feels  the  place  where  appetite  doth  lurk. 
October  hung  out  all  his  evening  stars  ; 


SUPPER.  75 

The  Dutchmen  hung  out  pine-knots,  here  and  there, 
Along  the  boards  that  stretched  o'er  crotch  and 

bars, 

The  smoking  wealth  of  that  great  meal  to  bear, 
For  hungry  host,  in  brisk  and  bracing  air. 
The  juicy  viands  gave  a  savory  smell, 
Uprising  through  cross-bars  of  puffy  dough  ; 
The  art  of  meat-pies  good  Dutch  vrouws  knew  well : 
It  was  a  marvel  how  they  browned  them  so ! 
And  there  they  stood,  all  piping  row  on  row. 
No  wonder  that  few  words,  beside  the  grace, 
Were  spoken  for  a  season,  by  the  men ; 
For  insubstantial  things  must  need  give  place 
To  substance  ;  and  what  use  of  language  when 
Actions  speak  louder  far,  as  theirs  did  then  ? 
The  men  who  work  not  neither  shall  they  eat ; 
But  men  who  work  shall  earn  and  eat  the  best, 
And  sleep  of  working  men  is  sound  and  sweet. 
And  they  of  all  men  are  most  truly  blest, 
And  readiest  they  of  all  to  go  to  rest. 

Happy  the  man  who  has  good  work  to  do, 
And  does  it  all  as  well  as  he  knows  how  I 
True  to  his  Master,  to  his  conscience  true, 
He  at  the  last,  with  sun-set  on  his  brow, 
Can  say,  My  work  is  done,  I'll  rest  me  now. 

Then  shall  he  sleep,  and  sweet  shall  be  his  rest  j 
As  when  in  glory  sinks  the  setting  sun 
Down  on  the  golden  pillows  of  the  west, 


76  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

For  he  shall  reap  the  fruits  his  toil  has  won, 
And  hear  the  Master  say  to  him,  "  Well  done  !  " 

At  length  their  tongues  were  freed,  and  floating 

round 

From  joke  to  joke,  from  story  to  a  song, 
On  this  great  quest  they  ran  themselves  aground. 
"  How  can  a  farmer  help  himself  along  ?  " 
"  What  duty  stands  the  foremost  on  a  farm,  — 
The  chief  to  be  observed,  on  wisest  plan , 
Thereby  to  guard  himself  from  loss  and  harm, 
Thereby  to  come  out  a  successful  man  ?  " 


VAN  TASSEL  said,  The  first  great  thing 
Of  which  a  man  should  think  or  sing, 
That  he  may  wealth  and  fortune  bring, 

Is  cattle. 

The  one  thing  needful  on  a  farm 
Is  this,  —  to  keep  well  housed  and  warm, 
Well-fed,  and  sheltered  from  the  storm, 

The  cattle. 

One  thought  to  keep  the  fences  up, 
Another  to  avoid  the  cup, 
And  rise  at  daylight  with  the  lark, 
And  keep  things  snug,  and  toe  the  mark. 

Was  half  the  battle. 


THRIFT.  77 

Van  Buren  said  that  change  of  seed, 
And  frequent  hoeing  was  the  need. 
Fat  Pruyn  affirmed,  to  feed  the  land, 
Like  cattle,  with  a  liberal  hand, 
And  keep  it  fat,  was  just  the  thing 
To  make  a  farmer's  purse  to  ring ; 
For  farms,  like  cows,  the  more  you  feed, 
The  more  they  '11  give  you,  deed  for  deed. 


AT  length  spake  Rip,  the  honored  host:  • 
"  All  you  have  said  is  wise  ; 

But  what  I  think  is  needed  most 
Came  not  in  your  replies. 

"  For  what  are  lands  and  cattle  worth, 

Or  house  and  gardens  fair, 
If  she  we  love  the  most  on  earth 

Be  absent  from  us  there  ? 

"  The  fairest  lands  are  desolate, 

The  house  an  empty  house, 
And  drear  and  lone  the  best  estate, 

Without  a  loving  spouse. 

"  What  was  the  earth  till  came  the  sun 
The  darkness  to  relieve  ? 


78  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  what,  when  Paradise  was  done, 
Was  Eden  without  Eve  ? 

"  Therefore,  I  think  the  first  great  care 

Of  every  farmer's  life, 
At  home,  abroad,  and  everywhere, 

Should  be  to  please  his  wife" 


This  brought  a  song  from  old  Van  Benschoten  ; 
Though   strong  his  limbs  his  voice  was  rather 

frail ; 

And  if  we  believe  his  son,  the  younger  Ben, 
"  It  quivered  like  a  sliver  on  a  rail.  " 

OUR  WIVES. 

LET  others  sing  of  girls  they  love, 
Or  praise  their  lands  and  houses  ; 

Our  song  shall  be  of  riper  fruit, 
And  richer  gold,  —  our  spouses  ! 

For  what  were  girls,  or  boys,  or  both, 
And  what  were  lands  and  houses  ; 

And  what  were  gold,  or  life  itself, 
Without  our  buxom  spouses  ! 

We  loved  them  well  when  they  were  young, 
The  thought  our  fancy  rouses  ; 


THE   GIRLS.  79 

But  though  as  sweethearts  much  we  loved, 
We  love  them  most  as  spouses  ! 

What  would  our  homes  be  did  not  they 
Clean  up,  and  mend  our  trousers  ; 

And  soon  the  world  would  empty  be 
If  '£  were  not  for  the  spouses  I 

THE  GIRLS. 

YOUNG  Rick  Van  Nest  thought  otherwise  ; 

But  blushed  when  asked  to  sing ; 
He  thought  the  girls  had  brighter  eyes, 

And  brighter  every  thing. 

"  From  whence,"  said  he,  "  do  spouses  come, 

To  cheer  your  old  men's  lives, 
If  not  from  girls,  who  leave  their  home 

To  be  the  young  men's  wives  ? 

"  From  whence  the  good,  ripe  fruits,  that  bring 

The  joy  of  winter  hours, 
But  from  the  spring-time  blossoming, 

And  early  summer  flowers  ? 

"  As  sure  as  swelling  rivers  flow 

From  little  brooks  and  waters, 
So  sure  the  best  of  good  vrouws  grow 

From  best  of  little  daughters  !  " 


80  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Then  called  they  for  Brommy,  the  sunny 
Brom  Lippencott,  easy  and  free, 

To  tell  them  a  story  funny, 
Or  to  sing  for  them  merrily. 

He'd  come  from  old  Spuyten  Duyvil, 

To  marry  on  Tappan  Zee, 
And  laughed  in  the  face  of  his  rival, 

Had  Brom  Lippencott,  said  he. 

Therefore,  he  would  sing  them  a  sober, 
Gay  song,  if  such  there  could  be  ; 

And  the  song  should  be  of  October, 
For  reasons  they  shortly  should  see. 

For  the  month  that  makes  the  world  mellow 

And  pockets  the  golden  corn, 
Was  to  marry  the  happiest  fellow 

To  the  prettiest  girl  ever  ^orn. 

Then  Lippencott  sang  of  October, 
In  a  full,  manly  voice  sang  he  ; 

And  the  voices  of  evening  sober 
Chimed  in  with  a  merry  glee : 

OCTOBER. 

LIKE  Joseph,  son  of  Jacob  old, 
All  gayly  clothed,  though  sober, 


OCTOBER.  81 

And  by  his  elder  brethren  sold, 
Is  glorious,  gay  October  ! 

He  garners  grain  for  time  of  need, 

And  bids  all  men  remember 
In  plenteous  months  to  take  good  heed 

For  barren,  scarce  December. 

Clad  like  a  king  in  regal  state, 

According  to  the  story, 
Next  to  the  King  good  Joseph  sate, 

And  next  to  him  in  glory. 

But  first  of  months,  of  all  the  year, 
Though  subject  and  right  loyal, 

October  wears  a  kingly  gear, 
And  crown  of  glory  royal. 

The  Summer  leaves  her  sweetest  charm 
For  the  face  of  bright  October ; 

And  so  his  smiles  are  always  warm, 
Although  his  brow  is  sober. 

And  then  to  heal  the  Summer  ills, 
Jack  Frost  comes  with  his  vetoes 

Against  the  vile  obnoxious  bills 
Of  vermin  and  mosquitoes. 


82  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

By  day  the  quails,  for  our  delight, 
Are  whistling  in  the  stubble  ; 

And  katydids  sing  half  the  night, 
To  drive  away  our  trouble. 

We  throw  our  clubs  up  in  the  trees, 
And  down  the  chestnuts  rattle  ! 

And  faster  fall,  and  better  please, 
Than  bullets  in  a  battle. 

The  'prentice  boy,  with  master's  gun, 
Goes  forth  for  a  day's  adventure ; 

And  if  he  gets  no  other  fun, 
Gets  a  day  from  his  indenture. 

The  squirrel  leaps  from  tree  to  tree, 

As  if  his  wits  had  quit  him  ; 
Then  pops  his  tail  up  just  to  see 
.    If  'prentice  boy  can  hit  him. 

The  days  are  warm,  the  nights  are  cool, 

Just  fit  to  make  us  rollic, 
And  dance  at  work,  at  play,  or  school, 

Or  at  Van  Bigham's  frolic. 

There  's  not  a  lady  in  the  land, 
However  wealth  caress  her, 


HOME  AND   TO  BED.  83 

With  silks  and  satins  at  command, 
And  waiting-maids  to  dress  her,  — 

Try  as  she  may,  and  do  her  best, 

Use  what  she  will  to  robe  her, 
With  jewels  and  gold  from  East  and  West, 

Can  dress  like  gay  October, 

If  he  appears  from  boots  to  crown, 

As  we  have  ever  found  him, 
In  purple,  crimson,  yellow,  and  brown, 

His  robes  of  glory  round  him  ; 

Or  if  all  lands  of  earth  we  try, 

And  islands  of  the  ocean  ; 
Or  if  from  world  to  world  we  fly, 

With  wings  for  locomotion,  — 

We  could  not  find  beneath  the  sky, 

On  our  revolving  globe,  or 
On  globes  of  light,  in  realms  on  high, 

A  month  like  our  October ! 


HOME  AND  TO  BED. 

THE  old  Dutch  beds  in  our  forefather's  times, 
Like  some  at  the  times  I  am  writing, 


84  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

With  pillows  of  down,  and  snowy  white  sheets, 
And  so  forth,  were  very  inviting. 

Their  home-woven  counterpanes,  quilts  of  patch 
work, 

And  feather-beds  piled  like  a  mountain, 
With  every  thing  clean  as  a  fresh-opened  rose, 

Of  sleep  and  good  dreams  were  the  fountain. 

And  a  good  day's  hard  work,  as  their  work  had 
been, 

And  a  hearty,  good  supper  thereafter, 
Topped  off  with  a  joke  and  a  song,  and  all  that 

To  help  their  digestions  with  laughter, 

Prepared  the  good  fellows,  though  fast-grappled 
friends, 

For  the  shaking  of  hands  and  the  parting, 
While  Berrys  and  Bucks  were  as  willing  as  they 

For  the  cracking  of  whips  and  the  starting. 

Good-by  !  They  are  gone,  and  will  soon  be  at 
home, 

With  their  good  vrouws,  the  Marthas  and  Marys  ; 
And  Rip's  log  cabin  looks  lonesome  enough, 

In  the  woods,  with  the  sylvan  fairies. 


THE  EMPTY  HOUSE.  85 

X. 

THE  EMPTY   HOUSE. 

TIME,  with  his  great  revolving  wheel, 

Turned  Autumn  off,  brought  Winter  round ; 

And  Winter  placed  his  icy  heel, 

With  clanging  tramp,  upon  the  ground. 

He  smote  the  earth  with  angry  hand  ; 

Earth  moaned  away  its  dying  breath ; 
A  shroud  fell  from  the  unknown  land, 

And  covered  its  cold  form  of  death. 

The  village  inn  gave  noisy  mirth  ; 

But  Rip  sat  brooding  in  his  gloom, 
And  skies,  that  mourned  the  buried  earth, 

Cast  shadows  in  his  silent  room. 

The  storm-winged  months  passed  slowly  now  ; 

And  lagging,  seemed  so  many  years  ; 
While  clouds  hung  heavy,  on  his  brow, 

With  strange  presentiments  of  fears. 

Three  months  ago  his  house  was  done, 

And  he  had  written  to  Katrine  ; 
Ere  yet  the  clouds  obscured  the  sun, 

Or  earth's  white  winding-sheet  was  seen. 


86  ONE  WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

No  dolorous  thought  escaped  him  then, 
But  words  that  hope  and  love  impart, 

Flowed  cheerily  from  his  gentle  pen 
To  call  his  loved  one  to  his  heart. 


RIPS  LETTER. 

DEAR  WIFE  :  I  take  my  pen  in  hand, 
Once  more,  to  write  that  "  all  is  well." 

I  want  to  see  you,  dear  Katrine, 
Far  more  than  I  have  words  to  tell. 

Our  house  is  ready,  —  built  of  logs 

Rough-hewn,  —  not  large,  nor  very  small ; 

But  airy,  strong,  and  snug,  and  warm  ;  — 
Much  better  than  no  house  at  all. 

'T  will  be  a  Home  when  yon  are  here, 
But  not  a  day  before  you  come  ; 

No  place  on  earth,  however  dear, 
Without  you  could  appear  like  home. 

I  seem  to  have  floated  on  a  tide 

Of  sun-lit  waves,  all  swift  and  strong, 

So  prosperous  have  I  been,  dear  Kate ; 
And  yet  the  time  seems  very  long. 


RIP'S  LETTER.  87 

Time,  since  we  parted,  seems  an  age, 

And  yet  as  fresh  as  yesterday  ; 
'T  was  always  short  when  you  were  near, 

And  always  long  with  you  away. 

You  '11  like  this  new  world,  dear  Katrine,  — 
I  do  believe  that  heaven  and  earth 

And  ocean  must  have  done  their  best 
To  give  this  glorious  country  birth  ! 

And  heaven  and  earth  must  have  combined 

To  fit  the  people  for  the  land  ; 
I  know  it  by  my  neighbors  here, 

So  kind  are  they  in  heart  and  hand. 

This  poor  man's  country,  where  he  finds 

A  rich  reward  for  honest  toil, 
Can  have  no  rival  on  the  globe, 

With  brighter  skies  or  richer  soil. 

Could  we  have  known  as  much  before 
We  parted  as  since  then  I  've  seen, 

The  ocean  would  not  now  divide 
Our  empty  house  and  my  Katrine. 

But  every  thing  is  for  the  best ; 

And  love,  that  taught  us  to  endure, 
Will  help  us  hope  and  bear  the  rest ; 

For  love's  reward  is  ever  sure. 


88  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

I  'm  lonely  here  without  you,  Kate, 
But  would  be  lonely  anywhere  ; 

A  crowded  town  were  desolate 
If  you  were  absent  from  me  there. 

And  I  could  love  the  wilderness, 
Or  live  in  deserts  wild  and  rude, 

If  my  Katrine  were  there  to  bless 
And  cheer  me,  in  the  solitude. 

My  thoughts  oft  bear  me  far  away, 
Till  we  are  standing,  side  by 'side, 

In  the  old  church,  that  happy  day 

That  blessed  me  with  a  blushing  bride. 

And  while  I  write,  my  fancy  brings 
You  here,  as  it  has  often  brought ;  — 

I  wish  the  Rollioker  had  wings, 

To  go  and  come  as  quick  as  thought ! 

But  I  '11  be  patient  yet  and  wait, 
And  busy  work  shall  make  time  fly, 

Until  we  meet,  —  till  then,  dear  Kate, 
I  'm  yours,  and  yours  until  I  die. 


MUCH  more  he  wrote  which  but  pertains 
To  loving  hearts  like  theirs,  I  ween ; 

And  much  too  sacred  for  the  eye 
Of  any  but  his  own  Katrine. 


RIP'S  LETTER.  89 

With  this  he  reached  Manhattan  Isle, 
On  board  the  swift  sloop  Pioneer, 

And  gave  it  to  his  friend,  Van  Dam, 
Stout  captain  of  the  Rollicker. 

The  Captain  listened  to  his  plan, 

While  to  his  care  committed  he 
The  treasure  of  his  heart,  Katrine, 

To  bring  her  safely  o'er  the  sea. 

To  which  good  Rip  Van  Dam  agreed, 
With  all  a  sailor's  generous  heart,  — 

Saying  he  had  a  wife  himself, 

From  whom  't  was  hard  to  live  apart. 

And  he  had  known  Katrine  and  Rip 
Since  they  were  children,  long  ago  ; 

And  he  would  bring  her  safely  o'er, 
Unless  the  winds  forgot  to  blow. 

And  you  can  trust  the  Rollicker, 

For  what  she  is  your  eyes  have  seen  ! 

You  found  her  safe  for  you,  my  boy  ! 
You'll  find  her  safe  for  your  Katrine. 

Rip  answered,  that  he  knew  the  ship, 
And  knew  her  doughty  Captain  brave  ; 

And  for  himself  would  never  fear, 

In  such  good  hands,  the  wind  or  wave ; 


90  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

But  somehow  timid  felt  for  her,  — 
He  knew  not  why,  unless  that  she 

Had  always,  from  her  childhood,  felt 
An  inward  horror  of  the  sea. 

"  And  yet  I  know  you  '11  bring  her  safe. 

So,  Captain,  take  good  care  of  her ! 
And  He  who  rules  the  winds  and  waves 

Will  bless  the  good  ship  Molticker" 

Thus  spake  good  Rip,  and  away  and  away 
Flew  the  ship  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  : 
Her  own  wings  were  strong  and  white  ; 
And  Hope,  like  an  angel  of  light, 
Took  the  helm,  in  Rip's  swift  mind, 
And  guided  her  night  and  day,  — 
And  guided  her  day  and  night,  — 
Till  the  sea,  that  lay  between 
His  empty  house  and  Katrine, 
Was  crossed  and  recrossed  by  the  ship  ; 
And  he  pressed  her  to  his  heart, 
And  kissed  the  love  from  her  lip 
Never  !  no,  never  again  to  part ! 

Thus  flew  the  ship  in  Bigham's  thought, 
Swifter  than  words  could  tell, 

The  ship  that  oft  the  storms  had  fought, 
And  oft  had  won,  as  well. 


THE  EVIL    OMEN.  91 

A  better  ship  could  not  be  found ! 

In  sooth,  a  ship  was  she, 
From  stem  to  stern  all  safe  and  sound, 

And  good  as  ship  could  be. 

From  stem  to  stern,  from  deck  to  keel, 

All  firmly  knit  and  strong  ; 
Broad  in  the  girth,  but  true  as  steel, 

Worthy  the  sailor's  song ! 

But  thought  is  swifter  than  a  ship, 

However  fast  she  be  ; 
And  Rip's  quick  thought  had  made  the  trip 

Ere  she  had  crossed  the  sea. 

Fair  was  the  wind,  the  sea  was  smooth, 

And  calm,  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
Such  voyage  the  Captain  said,  in  sooth, 

He  never  made  before. 

But  when  she  neared  the  dear  home-port 

Of  Amsterdam  the  old, 
A  cloud  was  seen,  of  evil  sort, 

That  feared  the  Captain  bold. 

It  settled  on  good  Barthold's  home, 

The  father  of  Katrine, 
Foretelling  evil  days  to  come, 

By  sign  too  often  seen,  — 


92  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

By  sign  Van  Dam  had  known,  alas ! 

And  Rip  would  know  too  soon  ; 
For  grief  would  surely  come  to  pass 

When  clouds  appeared  at  noon. 

THE  MESSENGERS. 

THE  ship  was  safely  moored  ;  and  in  due  time 
Discharged  her  cargo  ;  and  obediently 

Awaited  orders  to  reseek  the  clime, 

When  duty  called,  the  other  side  the  sea. 

Meantime  Van  Dam  had  sought  the  fair  Katrine, 
With  happy  word  that  Rip  had  bid  him  come 

To  fetch  her  to  the  home  she  ne'er  had  seen,  — 
A  humble,  but,  with  her,  a  happy  home. 

Good  news,  alas  !  do  sometimes  come  too  late  ! 

Had  this  been  told  Katrine  some  weeks  before 
It  might  have  saved  her  from  the  coming  fate 

That  called  her  to  another  distant  shore. 

The  hope  deferred,  the  longing  heart,  and  fears 
That  Rip  was  lost  in  the  great  storm  at  sea, 

Were  fuel  for  the  fever  which  her  tears 

Had  never  quenched  when  flowing  copiously. 

But  these  had  dried  ;  and  then  the  fever  raged 
With  inward  flame  that  burned  her  life  away  ; 


THE  MESSENGERS.  93 

Nor  skill  long  tried  its  fury  had  assuaged, 

While   aught  remained   to   burn,  from  day  to 
day. 

And  now  she  lay  like  wreck  upon  the  tide. 

Where    counter   winds    and   currents    hold   it 

fast ; 
Now  swayed  to  this,  now  to  the  other  side, 

Till  favoring  breezes  blow,  or  fatal  blast. 

Too  late  !  too  late  !  the  love-born  zephyrs  blew 
On  Barthold's  house,  where  the  dark  cloud  was 

seen; 

Van  Dam  had  not  yet  entered  ere  he  knew 
Its  shadow  rested  on  the  fair  Katrine. 

The  Captain  found  a  house  of  mourning  there  ; 

Another  messenger  had  come  before, 
To  call  her  to  another  world  more  fair, 

A    home    more    fair    than   Hudson's    glorious 

shore, 

To  which  her  husband  called  with  longing  heart 
and  sore. 

She   scarcely   breathed  ;    bright  angels,  o'er   her 

bending, 

With  fragrant  wings,  were  there  to  help  her  fly  ; 
The  soul,  like  air,  grows  pure  by  its  ascending, 


91  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  hers  was  pure,  for  she  was  near  the  sky  ; 
And  they  who  looked  on  her  did  think  it  joy  to 
die. 


A  holy  man  of  God,  a  pure  and  simple  man, 
Knelt   down   and   they    all   bowed  in    humble 

prayer  ; 

And  then,  in  glowing  words,  he  showed  the  plan 
Of  grace  divine,  by  which  our  Lord  did  bear 
The  cross  for  all  who  in  his  cross  and  crown  will 
share. 

"  Who  bear  the  cross  the  crown  shall  also  wear ; " 
And  she,  the  sweet  Katrine,  had  long  ago 

Secured  of  both  the  cross  and  crown  her  share  ! 
Already  she  had  passed  all  sin  and  woe  ; 
And   soon  her   soul   would   shine   in  heaven's 
effulgent  glow. 

The  path  that  ends  in  glory  must  begin 
Low  down,  in  sweet  humility  of  place  ; 

Like  His,  the  manger  who  was  laid  within, 
Who  died  upon  the  cross  for  human  race, 
And   now  in  glory  reigns,   with  majesty   and 
grace. 


THE  PATH.  95 


THE  PATH. 

HAKD  by  a  valley, 
Shaded  and  deep, 

Riseth  a  mountain, 
Rugged  and  steep. 

Narrow  a  pathway, 

Dim  to  the  eye, 
Threadeth  the  mountain, 

Reacheth  the  sky. 

Low  in  the  valley 
Standeth  a  gate, 

Fronting  the  pathway, 
Narrow  and  strait. 

Few  there  be  enter  it, 
Stooping  so  low  ; 

Small  is  the  number 
Heavenward  go. 

Pride  passeth  by  it, 
Scorneth  the  gate,  — 

Finds  it  too  narrow, 
Finds  it  too  strait. 


96  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Selfishness,  vanity, 
Babbling  philosophy, 

Worldly  insanity, 
Swelling  morality, 

Sceptical  Sadducee, 

Infidel  hate, 
Self-righteous  Pharisee, 

Scoff  at  the  gate  ! 

Only  the  humble, 
Grieving  for  sin, 

Halt  by  the  gate-way, 
Enter  within. 

Angels,  like  sunbeams, 
Downward  descending, 

Smile  on  the  pathway 
Heavenward  tending. 

Rugged  the  climbing ; 

Danger  each  side ; 
But  with  the  pilgrim 

Angels  abide. 

Pointing  him  upward, 
Showing  his  crown, 


THE  PATH.  97 

Strengthening,  cheering, 
Helping  him  on. 

All  the  path  pleasant, 

Fragrant,  though  steep  ; 
All  its  tears  dew-drops 

Sweet  flowers  weep. 

All  the  sky  smiling 

Storm-clouds  above  ; 
All  the  air  musical, 

Laden  with  love. 

Onward  and  upward, 

Ever  ascending, 
Soon  with  the  sky-robes 

His  will  be  blending ! 


o 


Earth  far  below  him, 

Fading  away  ; 
Nearer  and  clearer 

Shineth  the  day  ! 

Earth  far  below  him, 
Heaven  in  sight,  — 

Lo  !  he  has  vanished 
Into  its  light ! 


98  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Thus  spake  the  Preacher,  in  a  gentle  voice  ; 

Not  for  her  sake  who  all  unconscious  lay, 
But  that  the  sorrowing  friends  might  then  rejoice, 

As  they  beheld  her  on  the  shining  way  ! 

Then  took  their  harps,  which  hope  and  faith  had 

strung, 

This  gathered  company  of  mourning  friends, 
And  in  low  tones  of  solemn  music  sung 

Of  that  bright  world  where  this  swift  journey 
ends. 

For  when  Death's  wing  comes  down,  like  evening's 
gloom, 

It  falls  not  on  the  dying  one  alone  ! 
Each  feels  himself  borne  onward  to  the  tomb, 

And  in  the  dying  face  beholds  his  own. 


THE   HYMN. 

(HEAVENWARD  BOUND.) 

TIME  is  rushing  in  his  chariot ; 

Rapidly  his  wheels  go  round ; 
Though  they  cast  no  dust  behind  them, 

Though  they  leave  no  rumbling  sound ; 
Silently  they  bear  us  onward ; 

Soon  our  journey  will  be  o'er  ; 


HEAVENWARD  BOUND.  99 

Soon  the  friends  with  whom  we  mingle 
We  shall  see  and  hear  no  more  ; 

Soon  our  feet  shall  press  the  meadows 
Of  the  vast  eternal  shore. 

Flying  months  and  years  remind  us 

Of  the  world  we  're  passing  to  ; 
Let  us  leave  good  deeds  behind  us, 

In  the  world  we  're  passing  through, 
Which  shall  be  the  seeds  of  kindness, 

Watered  by  celestial  dew  ; 
And  shall  bear  good  fruits  for  others,*— 

Fruits  of  joy  and  peace  and  love, 
Years  long  after  we  are  singing 

In  the  immortal  land  above. 

Men  are  born,  and  men  are  dying; 

Thousands  come,  not  one  can  stay ; 
Time  is  swift,  his  wheels  are  flying, 

Never  ceasing,  night  nor  day, 
For  the  laughter,  nor  the  crying 

Of  the  stricken  or  the  gay  ; 
Crushing  down  the  God-defying,  — 

They  who  laugh  at  Death's  delay ; 
And  from  sorrow,  sin,  and  sighing 

Bearing  gentle  souls  away. 

Plans  and  schemes  of  men  and  nations  ; 
Hearts  and  homes  and  homestead-tree 


100  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Granite  walls  and  Art's  creations, 

All  the  eye  delights  to  see, 
All  the  ear  delights  in  hearing, 

Crumble,  tumble,  fall  and  fade  ! 
Oh !  we  need  a  world  more  cheering, 

Free  from  graves  and  cypress  shade : 
Thanks  to  God  !  that  world  we  're  nearing, 

In  eternal  sapphires  laid. 

Weeks   passed.      Katrina    lived,   though    scarce 

alive ; 

The  blood  forsook  her  face,  and  marble  came 
With  living  flesh  for  mastery  to  strive ; 
Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  tongue  spake  but  one 

name ; 
And  the  cold  waves  of  death  strove  with  life's 

feeble  flame. 

The  day  had  come  on  which  she  was  to  sail 
For  the  New  World,  beyond  the  swelling  tide. 
Alas !  the  ship  would  carry  woe  and  wail 
To  Bigham's  heart,  in  place  of  happy  bride, 
For  whom  he  waited  with  such  longing  love  and 
pride. 

The  ship  delayed  that  the  good  Captain  might 
Take  word  decisive  of  Katrina's  fate. 
He  left  her  dying-bed  at  twelve  of  night, 


THE  BLESSED 


Agreeing  on  a  signal,  which  should  state, 
At  dawn,  if  she  had  passed  the  dark  and  dolorous 
gate. 

The  signal  was  a  winding-sheet,  waved  from 
The  house-top,  if  Katrine  that  night  should  die. 
Alas  !  he  saw  it  waving  from  her  home, 
Whose  light  grew  dark  as  light  sprung  up  the  sky, 
Next  morn,  at  early  dawn.    Alas,  the  reason  why  ! 

With  this  sad  news,  a  heavy  freight  of  grief, 

The    ship,  with  sagging  sails,  dropped  down  the 

stream  ; 

Nor  from  the  mournful  burden  felt  relief 
Till  smiling  Ocean's  vast  and  glorious  gleam 
Dispelled  it,  as  the  day  dispels  a  frightful  dream. 

THE   BLESSED   DEAD. 

MOURNFULLY,  rejoicingly, 

We  look  upon  the  dead  ; 
Glad  that  the  happy  soul  has  passed 

The  boundaries  we  dread  ; 
Sad  for  the  house  whose  darkened  walls 

Sigh  for  the  spirit  fled. 

Mournfully,  rejoicingly, 
We  close  the  loving  eyes  ; 


TOO  MANY. 

Sad  for  the  loss  of  their  dear  light 
Which  made  home  Paradise  ; 

But  glad  that  they  do  now  behold 
Their  Maker,  in  the  skies. 

Mournfully,  rejoicingly, 

We  see  the  smile,  so  meek, 

Now  fixed  upon  the  pleasant  lips, 
Alas  !  that  will  not  speak  ! 

We  weep,  and  yet  rejoice  that  she 
Still  smiles,  though  we  are  weak. 

Mournfully,  rejoicingly, 

We  bear  the  dead  away  ; 
Sad  for  the  living  beauty  gone 

From  that  most  wondrous  clay ; 
But  glad  to  know  't  will  rise  again, 

In  Life's  immortal  day. 

Mournfully,  rejoicingly, 

Not  hopelessly  and  vain, 
We  send  our  tears  and  prayers  to  God, 

That  He  will  heal  our  pain ; 
Sad  that  our  world  has  lost  so  much, 

Glad  for  what  Heaven  doth  gain. 


SAD  NEWS.  103 

XL 

BAD  NEWS. 

BAD  news  flies  swiftly  on  the  east  wind's  wings  ; 
And  while  good  Rip  Van  Bigham,  faithful  man, 
Good  husband,  living  only  for  Katrine, 
Toiling  for  her,  and  forming  every  plan, 
With  eager  hope  already  saw  her  near, 
And  every  lagging  day  stretched  to  a  week, 
The  swift-winged  Rollicker^  with  tidings  drear, 
Brought  pangs  of  death,  to  slay  his  loving  heart. 

Van  Dam,  the  kind  good  Captain,  came  himself, 
With  softest  words,  and  wise  considerate  art, 
To  break  by  slow  degrees  the  dreadful  blow. 

A  thunderbolt,  from  brightest  noon-day  sky 
Fell,  crashing !  when  the  gentle  sailor  spake. 
Poor  Rip  was  dumb  with  horror.     Not  a  sigh 
Escaped  him.     Not  a  word  he  uttered  then ; 
But  dumb  and  breathless,  like  as  if  to  die  ; 
Till    good    Van   Dam    seized   hold  his  death-like 

hand 
And   gently    said,  —  "  Rip !    we   must    act   like 

men ! " 
Then   burst   the  pent-up   shower ;    tears  fell  like 

rain, 

And  with  a  long,  deep  groan  he  lived  again. 
He  lived,  but  all  he  lived  for  on  the  earth 


104  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Was  gone.     The  life  that  made  his  life  was  gone. 

The  roots  were  gone  that  gave  its  blossoms  birth. 

He  moved  like  an  automaton,  a  form, 

Without  the  vital  energy  of  man,  — 

A  wreck  at  mercy  of  the  driving  storm. 

Plans,  hopes,  home,  joy,  all  wrecked  at  once  ! 

The  pangs  of  parting,  exile,  toil,  in  vain  ; 

His  long,  sweet  dream  of  life  all  turned  to  pain. 

The  sun  went  out  and  left  him  to  the  night ; 

And   night  was  drowned  in  tears,   and  gave  no 

stars. 

Alike  to  him  night's  gloom  or  midday  light ; 
The  earth  was  iron,  and  the  heavens  were  brass  ; 
And  life  a  worthless,  useless  thing  below  ; 
And  man  seemed  made  for  wretchedness  and  woe. 

Death  cast  his  shadow  on  all  living  things, 
And  shook  his  skeleton  fingers,  night  and  day, 
With  hour-glass  waiting  but  the  hour  to  strike, 
And  all  things  waited  merely  for  their  doom. 
How  strange  that  men  kept  toiling  wearily  on  ! 
That  all  the  world  was  busy,  mid  the  gloom  ! 
Nothing  to  him  was  good  on  earth  but  sorrow  ; 
Nothing  he  hoped  for  half  so  much  as  death  ; 
For  this  he  prayed  with  every  evening's  breath, 
That  he  might  sleep  and  wake  not  with  the  mor 
row. 

And  when  the  morrow  came,  with  morning's  light, 
He  prayed  that  he  might  die  before  the  night. 


COMFORTED.  105 

But  that  dark  gate,  that  led  to  his  Katrine, 
Was  closed  against  him.      And  his  earthly  home 
Was  closed  and  dark  ;  for  she  had  passed  away  ; 
And  hope  across  its  threshold  could  not  come. 
A  homesick  exile  in  a  weary,  world, 
The  future  blank  before  him  night  and  day, 
In  love  with  grief,  and  loving  solitude, 
He  sought  the  shadows  of  the  lonely  wood, 
And  plunged  in  darkness  of  the  wilderness. 

Nor  passed  into  the  wilderness  alone  ; 
No  man  can  be  alone  ;  though  none  may  see 
What  bright-winged  guardians  keep  him  company. 
Who  have  the  charge  of  mortals  in  distress. 
The  angel  sought  him  out,  and  soothed  him  there  ; 
Touched  his  cold  hand  with  hand  most  heavenly 

fair  ; 

And  led  him  forth  from  darkness  to  the  light, 
And  set  him  down  beneath  the  cherry-tree, 
Which,  strange  to  say,  drooped  not  with   winter's 
blight. 

With  zephyr  whispers  there  recounted  he, 
As  if  from  well-stored,  loving  memory, 
Of  him  and  his  Katrine,  their  childhood's  days  ; 
Their  school-day  tasks,  their  merry  plays, 
Their  early  love,  its  tender  forming  leaf, 
Its  fragrant  blossoming  without  a  grief ; 
Their  marriage,  parting,  hopes,  and  human  fears, 
And  smiles  and  tears  all  ending  now  in  tears. 


106  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Then,  pointing  upward  through  the  sky  between 
The  weeping  husband  and  his  dead  Katrine, 
Asked,  "  Would  you   call  her,  were   the   power 

given, 

Back  to  this  weary  world  from  yon  bright  heav 
en  ?  " 

Good  Rip  was  silent ;  but  his  heart  said,  "  No  !  " 
E'en  while  his  lips  were  silent  with  his  woe. 
Thus  was  the  good  man,  in  his  sore  distress, 
By  angels  strengthened  in  the  wilderness. 


ANGELS. 

ANGELS  have  passed  Hwixt  earth  and  heaven, 

Unseen  by  mortal  eyes, 
E'er  since  our  stricken  race  were  driven 

By  sin  from  Paradise  ; 
They  make  no  rustling  of  the  wing, 
Nor  can  we  hear  the  songs  they  sing. 

Swift  as  the  light  they  come  and  go, 

On  some  mysterious  plan, 
Touched  by  the  sight  of  human  woe, 

In  pitying  love  for  man  ; 
We  know  they  come,  but  cannot  trace 
Their  pathway  through  the  shining  space. 


ANGELS.  107 

Down  from  the  heavenly  hills  on  high 

To  earth's  far-distant  plain, 
Where  prostrate  millions  groan  and  die, 

With  poisoned  arrows  slain, 
In  loving  haste,  they  fly  to  bring 
The  healing  balm  upon  their  wing. 

To  babes  who  in  their  cradles  weep, 

They  whisper,  soft  and  low, 
And  soothe  the  little  ones  to  sleep, 

With  glory  on  their  brow  ; 
Then  bear  them  gently  to  the  skies, 
To  bloom  like  buds  in  Paradise. 

Where  tears  of  humble  sorrow  flow 

From  broken  hearts  for  sin  ; 
Where  lilies  of  the  valley  grow, 

We  know  their  steps  have  been  ; 
They  come  to  bear  the  flower  and  gem 
To  deck  the  Saviour's  diadem. 

Where  wounded  pilgrims  press  the  ground, 

Or  faint  beneath  their  load, 
The  winged  Samaritans  are  found, 

All  timely,  on  the  road, 
To  bathe  their  wounds  with  oil  and  wine, 
Brought  with  them  from  the  Land  divine. 


108  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  when  a  good  man  shuts  his  eyes, 

Bidding  the  world  farewell, 
They  wait  to  bear  him  to  the  skies, 

With  joy  no  tongue  can  tell ; 
And  those  sweet  smiles  upon  his  face 
Are  seals  of  God  which  angels  trace. 


XII. 
THE  WIDOW. 

THE  swiftest  streams  run  soonest  dry, 
Though  chafing  with  their  shore  : 

And  heaviest  showers  that  rend  the  sky 
Are  always  quickest  o'er. 

All  sorrow  finds  its  sympathy, 

And  grief  its  counterpart, 
However  great  the  sorrow  be, 

Or  broken  be  the  heart. 

The  wing  of  death  its  shadow  cast 

Across  the  Wayside  Inn  ; 
And  solemn  silence  reigned,  at  last, 

Where  mirth  so  long  had  been. 

The  yonkers  ceased  their  rollicking, 
And  held  with  awe  their  breath  ; 


THE    WIDOW.  109 

They  stopped  the  dance,  they  ceased  to  sing, 
When  in  the  door  came  Death. 

Van  Horn,  the  keeper  of  the  inn, 

The  mighty  drinker,  died  ; 
With  whom  good  Rip  a  guest  had  been, 

And  jolly  friend  beside. 

This  drew  him  from  himself,  to  feel 

For  others'  grief,  and  show 
That  sympathy  was  made  to  heal 

The  wounds  of  others'  woe. 

The  heart  quick  feels  another's  grief 

When  wounded  by  its  own, 
And  better  knows  to  give  relief 

Than  else  it  could  have  known. 

Rip  closed  the  eyes  of  Hans  Van  Horn  ; 

And  to  the  mourners  gave 
Such  tender  words  as  one  forlorn 

Could  give  beside  the  grave. 

Remembering  what  the  angel  said, 

To  stay  his  murmuring  cries, 
He  praised  the  virtues  of  the  dead, 

And  pointed  to  the  skies. 


110  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  dead  man's  widow,  Anneke, 
Grieved  more,  the  more  he  spake, 

And  sobbing  loud  she  begged  that  he 
Would  keep  on,  for  her  sake. 

Then  gliding  from  the  willow- tree, 
All  drooping  in  her  charms, 

The  sorrow-stricken  Anneke 
Fell  swooning,  in  his  arms. 

Poor  Rip  was  stifling  with  her  weight, 
When  they  who  stood  around 

The  grave,  with  thought  considerate, 
Laid  her  upon  the  ground. 

Thence  rising  soon,  they  left  the  place, 
And  closed  the  burial  scene  ; 

And  Rip  went  home  with  saddened  face 
For  Hans,  and  for  Katrine. 


THE  WIDOW'S  SYMPATHY. 

THE  widow  Van  Horn  was  short  and  plump, 

And  young  and  merry  was  she ; 
And  now,  that  her  heart  was  wounded  and  sore, 

She  needed  much  sympathy. 


THE   WIDOWS  SYMPATHY.  Ill 

And  this  was  the  reason,  from  time  to  time, 

She  sought  the  presence  of  Rip, 
To  sip  the  pity  that  trickled  down, 

In  honey-drops,  from  his  lip. 

And  well  she  knew,  in  her  own  distress, 

To  feel  for  the  woe  of  another, 
And  therefore  oftener  sighed  for  poor  Rip, 

As  sister  may  sigh  for  a  brother. 

Her  eyes  were  dark  blue,  but  grew  quite  red 

By  weeping  alone  all  night, 
But  her  dark-brown  ringlets  always  looked  neat, 

Whenever  they  came  to  light. 

And  very  particular  with  her  dress, 

As  young  widows  ought  to  be, 
No  matter  how  terrible  their  distress, 

Was  the  plump  widow,  Anneke. 

She  knew  that  one  use  of  the  eyes  is  to  draw 
The  tears  from  the  well  of  the  heart  ; 

And  never  had  widow  a  sprightlier  tongue 
Her  feelings  in  words  to  impart. 

And  therefore  she  oftener  sought  for  poor  Rip 
To  cheer  him  with  tears  and  tongue, 


J12  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

For  she  thought  to  mope  so,  and  hang  his  head, 
Was  pity  for  one  so  young. 

She  laughed  in  a  week  to  her  great  surprise, 

While  trying  poor  Rip  to  beguile, 
By  telling  some  jolly  stories  and  jokes, 

To  cause  the  poor  fellow  to  smile. 

The  writers  on  human  nature  own  up 

When  trying  to  understand 
Young  widows,  like  Anneke,  and  confess, 

They  yield  to  the  subject  in  hand. 

'T  was  therefore  she  oftener  sought  for  poor  Rip, 

That  he  might  study  her  out, 
And  not  be  so  stupid,  but  open  his  eyes 

To  see  what  she  was  about. 


STRATEGY. 

SHE  therefore,  with  strategic  art, 
Pumped  streams  of  pity  up, 

And  poured  it  sweetened  from  her  heart 
Like  honey  from  a  cup. 

For  she  could  feel  for  Bigham's  state  ! 
Oh  !  she  could  sympathize 


STRATEGY.  113 

With  one  whose  heart  had  'ost  its  mate, 
Whose  half  was  in  the  skies, 

And  only  half  was  left  below, 

To  writhe  and  bleed  alone, 
In  solitude  with  grief  and  woe  ! 

And  all  life's  pleasure  gone. 

The  words  were  wet,  that  crossed  her  lip, 

With  tears,  —  for  oh  !  her  mate 
(The  same  as  with  poor  widowed  Rip) 

Had  left  her  desolate. 

But  she  had  noticed  how  the  tree, 

When  it  had  cast  its  fruit, 
And  lost  its  leaves,  would,  seemingly, 

Be  dead  from  top  to  root. 

And  oh !  how  lone  and  sad  it  seems, 

Through  winter's  snow  and  rain, 
Till  warmed  by  Spring's  embracing  beams, 

It  smiles  and  blooms  again. 

And  so  the  widowed  heart  of  man 

Is  often  sick  of  life, 
Until  he  follows  Nature's  plan, 

And  takes  another  wife  J 


114  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  she  had  seen  the  rose-bush  shed 

Great  tears,  as  if  it  cried, 
Because  a  favorite  rose  was  dead,  — 

As  if  all  flowers  had  died. 

But  soon  the  bush  would  bud  and  bloom, 

And  other  roses  bear, 
And  drown  in  beauty  all  the  gloom 

It  once  was  forced  to  wear. 

'T  was  thus  the  heart  that  once  has  loved, 

And  felt  the  widowed  pain, 
By  love  and  grief  has  doubly  proved 

Its  power  to  love  again  ! 

And  why  should  people  born  to  make 

Each  other  happy  here,  — 
To  live  and  love  for  others'  sake, 

And  dry  the  falling  tear, 

To  make  the  sunbeams  dance  around 
Each  other's  lonely  heart,  — 

What  right,  or  reason  could  be  found 
Why  they  should  li ve  apart  ? 

Her  words  like  dripping  honey  fell, 
But  Bigham's  ears  were  dull ; 

Therefore  she  sang,  her  love  to  tell, 
This  song  in  accents  full. 


THE    WIDOWS  SONG.  115 


THE   WIDOW'S   SONG. 

THE  plant  that  bears  a  fragrant  flower 
When  nursed  by  sun  and  rain, 

Though  stricken  by  the  tempest's  power, 
Will  bloom  and  bear  again. 

The  flower  may  droop,  the  stem  may  bleed, 
When  stricken  by  the  storm ; 

But  still  the  plant  retains  its  seed, 
Another  flower  to  form. 

Thus  human  hearts,  though  torn  by  grief, 

And  widowed  by  the  fates, 
May  bloom  again,  and  find  relief, 

By  wooing  other  mates  ! 

'T  is  not  in  love  to  droop  and  die, 

For  love  immortal  is, 
Though  changeful  as  a  zephyr's  sigh, 

And  frail  as  mortal  bliss. 

But  't  is  the  nature  of  true  love 

To  blossom  like  a  tree, 
And  bring  forth  fruit,  and  thus  to  prove 

Its  immortality. 


116  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

When  last  year's  fruit  is  gathered  in, 

Or  fallen  to  the  ground, 
It  surely  cannot  be  a  sin 

If  other  fruit  be  found. 

They  who  have  loved  will  love  again,  — 

Love  is  no  barren  tree  ; 
Whoever  dies  love  will  remain, 

And  live  immortally. 

The  heart  will  live,  and  love  will  bloom, 

That  widows  may  rejoice  ; 
Nor  will  the  first  rise  from  the  tomb 

To  mar  the  second  choice. 

The  first  young  mate  may  seem  the  best, 

Too  good  for  earth  by  far, 
And  fly  away,  to  find  its  nest, 

In  some  bright,  distant  star. 

The  first  sweet  rose,  that  blooms  to  cheer 

And  beautify  our  homes, 
Seems  like  the  best  that  can  appear, 

Until  the  second  comes. 

Then  cheer  up,  widows  !  cheer  up,  men ! 

Nor  chide  the  gloomy  fates  ; 
Your  drooping  hearts  will  bloom  again, 

And  twine  round  other  mates  ! 


KATRINA'S    WRAITH.  117 

SHE  said  she  never  liked  to  sing  this  song 
Since  Hans's  death,  it  seemed  so  personal. 
To  sing  at  all  seemed,  somehow,  almost  wrong ; 
And  yet  she  thought  't  was  philosophical, 
And  true  to  Nature,  as  a  song  should  be,  — 
Especially  where  it  treats  of  plants,  and  trees, 
And  flowers,  and  all  that  sort  of  things ; 
For  poetry  should  be  like  honey-bees, 
Without  of  course  their  ugly  little  stings, 
And  gather  sweets  from  every  tree  and  flower, 
In  garden,  grove,  and  buckwheat-field,  and  bower. 


VAN  BIGHAM  felt  her  sympathy  ; 

Their  tears  had  mingled  much  of  late  ; 
And  who  can  tell  but  this  may  be 

A  sign  of  mingling  of  their  fate  ? 

But  Rip's  fond  heart  was  far  away, 

And  buried  in  a  distant  tomb  ; 
And  he  had  dreams  by  night  and  day, 

Which  did  not  cheer  the  widow's  gloom. 

A  vision  of  Katrina's  wraith 

Had  warned  him  thrice  by  day  and  night, 
To  keep  inviolate  their  faith, 

And  not  a  second  troth  to  plight. 


118  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

She  seemed  a  holy  bridal-queen, 
With  crown  of  jewels  on  her  head  ; 

And  yet  she  was  the  same  Katrine, 
And  seemed  the  living,  not  the  dead. 

The  same  sweet  eyes  that  filled  with  tears, 
When  they  last  parted,  on  the  ship ; 

The  same  sweet  face,  with  all  the  fears 
That  trembled  on  her  loving  lip  ; 

The  same  fair  hand  that  clasped  his  own ; 

The  brow  heroic  when  they  parted, 
Trying  to  hide,  what  yet  was  known, 

That  she  was  almost  broken-hearted  ; 

Appeared  before  him,  twice  by  night, 
And  once  by  day  ;  to  him  alone  ; 

And  warned  him  not  to  break  their  plight, 
With  loving  voice,  nor  chiding  tone. 

"  I  am  your  wife  !    No  other  one 

Can  love,  and  long,  and  wait  like  me  ! 

Now  wait  for  me,  as  I  have  done,  — 
As  I  have  loved,  and  longed  for  thee !  " 

Sweeter  the  nights  than  brightest  days, 
That  held  this  vision  to  his  sight; 

He  sought  the  dream,  and  shunned  the  rays 
That  drowned  such  beauty  in  their  light. 


ART. 

Thus  lived  the  love  in  Bigham's  heart, 
As  lives  the  flower  within  its  stem  ; 

And  nightly  tears,  like  dew,  would  start 
To  crown  it  with  a  diadem. 

Such  manly  tears  did  Bigham  weep 
For  one  so  worthy  of  his  tears  ; 

And  faithful  image  did  he  keep 
Of  her,  for  all  the  coining  years. 

For  they  had  loved  each  other  long, 
With  all  their  heart,  in  fatherland  ; 

Mingled  their  sorrows  and  their  song, 
And  walked  together,  hand  in  hand, 

From  early  childhood,  all  the  way, 
Till  in  the  church  he  clasped  his  wife ; 

Then  left  her,  on  that  bridal-day, 

With  all  his  world  wrapped  in  her  life. 

And  all  his  world  seemed  lost,  we  know7, 
And  all  his  life  a  desert  wide  ; 

For  deep  as  joy  must  sink  the  woe 
That  fills  its  place,  when  joy  has  died. 


BUT  "  Art  is  long  "  the  poet  said, 
And  sweet  is  woman's  tongue  ; 


120  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  sprightly  widows  love  to  wed 
Exceedingly  when  young. 

And  Van  Horn's  widow,  Anneke, 
Was  young  and  sprightly  still ; 

And  had  a  tongue  wherewith  could  she 
Talk  sweet,  with  wondrous  skill. 

And  she  was  patient ;  Rip  was  kind, 

And  had  a  plastic  heart ; 
And  she  had  eyes ;  and  Rip  was  blind 

To  widow-craft  and  art. 

Three  weeks  passed  on ;  and  still  she  wept, 

And  needed  sympathy ; 
And  smiles  and  tears  on  hand  she  kept, 

And  used  them  witchingly. 

She  talked  of  other's  slighted  love, 

As  if  it  were  her  own  ; 
And  told  how  soon  the  mated  dove 

Would  die  if  left  alone  ! 

She  often  sang  mad  ^Efje's  song,  — 
The  Maid  of  Rockland  Lake,  — 

Whose  lover,  Bertram,  young  and  strong, 
Had  died  for  ^Dfje's  sake. 


THE  MAID    OF  ROCKLAND  LAKE.  121 

Their  tale  she  told,  with  widow-skill, 

To  unsuspecting  Rip, 
To  warn  him  not  to  craze,  or  kill 

True  love,  with  cruel  lip. 


THE  MAID  OF  ROCKLAND  LAKE. 

WHERE  Rockland's  peaceful  waters  lie, 

Upon  their  granite  bed, 
There  lived  a  maid,  in  months  gone  by, 

Who  now  is  with  the  dead. 

And  better  be  among  the  dead 

If  what  I  sing  be  true  — 
Of  heart  made  bleak,  and  reason  fled, 

With  love's  long,  last  adieu. 


Last  winter,  on  a  dreary  night, 
Swayed  by  its  boisterous  breath, 

I  saw  her,  in  the  moon's  cold  light, 
Pale  as  the  cheek  of  death. 

The  north  wind  whistled  drear  and  chill, 

And  she  was  thinly  clad  ; 
Yet  wandered  she  o'er  vale  and  hill, 

And  sang  in  accents  sad. 


122  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Her  song  was  of  her  lover  dead  ; 

And  wild  the  vows  she  gave, 
That  she  would  constant  prove,  and  wed 

Her  Bertram,  in  the  grave. 

And  oft  she  knelt  upon  the  snow, 
And  moaned  a  plaintive  prayer  ; 

Mingled  with  broken  sobs  of  woe, 
And  laughter  of  despair. 

JEfje  was  once  most  wondrous  fair, 
They  told  me  so  who  knew ; 

Dark  as  the  night  her  flowing  hair, 
Her  eyes  a  heavenly  blue, 

Her  perfect  form,  with  carriage  meek, 
Moved  with  a  sylph-like  grace  ; 

The  rose-leaf  blushed  upon  her  cheek, 
And  heaven  shone  in  her  face. 

Like  Him,  whose  work  of  doing  good 
Was  constant  day  and  night, 

She  gave  unto  the  hungry  food, 
To  sorrowing  hearts  delight. 

Her  lover  was  a  gentle  youth, 
But  he  was  very  poor ; 


THE  MAID    OF  ROCKLAND  LAKE.  123 

And  so  her  father's  anger,  sooth, 
It  drove  him  from  his  door. 

It  drove  him  from  his  door  away, 
Though  he  was  good  and  brave  ; 

He  went,  but  ere  another  day, 
Had  found  a  watery  grave. 

Oh  bitter  tears  the  maiden  shed 

When  forced  from  him  to  part ; 
And  when  they  told  her  he  was  dead 

They  say  it  broke  her  heart. 

The  night  I  saw  this  maiden  fair, 

So  lovely  once,  and  sweet, 
Her  cheek  was  pale,  and  white  her  hair 

As  snow-fall  at  her  feet. 

They  tried  to  keep  her  safe  at  home, 

But  oft  she  broke  away, 
Among  the  snow-clad  hills  to  roam, 

Where  her  poor  Bertram  lay. 

Her  father  wept,  but  wept  in  vain, 

For  she  was  crazed  and  wild  ; 
Nor  could  his  tears,  though  poured  like  rain, 

Restore  his  only  child. 


124  ONE    WIFE   TOO   MANY. 

"  O  Christ !  "  he  cried,  full  oft  and  sore, 

In  agonizing  prayer, 
"  Pity  my  sorrow  and  restore 

My  daughter  from  despair !  " 

In  sooth  it  was  a  piteous  sight, 

That  aged  man  and  gray, 
Bowed  down  with  sorrow  every  night, 

Lamenting  day  by  day. 

Could  tears  restore  the  word  unsaid, 

That  broke  her  heart  in  twain, 
Could  prayers  restore  to  life  the  dead, 

His  had  not  been  in  vain. 

But  ah !  repentance  came  too  late, 

Too  late  that  father's  prayer  ; 
He  'd  driven  a  good  man  from  his  gate, 

His  daughter  to  despair. 

That  night  she  came  to  Bertram's  grave, 

And  falling  on  the  mound, 
She  called  to  him,  the  good  and  brave, 

There  pillowed  in  the  ground  ; 

Then  brushed  the  snow-shroud  from  the  earth, 
With  her  white,  trembling  hand, 


AEFJE'S  SONG.  125 

And  laughed  with  strange  and  startling  mirth, 
As,  gathering  up  the  sand, 

She  pressed  it  to  her  heart.    "  Oh  why," 

She  moaned,  "  dear  father,  say  ! 
Should  Bertram,  my  own  Bertram,  die  ? 

Why  keep  him  thus  away  ?  " 

Then  suddenly,  with  strange,  fixed  stare, 
She  cried,  "  Ah  Bertram,  dear !  " 

(And  wildly  clasped  the  empty  air,) 
"  I  knew  I  'd  find  thee  here  ! 

"  Now  sit  thee  down  and  I  will  sing 

The  song  thou  lovest  so  well ; " 
Then  sang,  while  at  her  feet,  poor  thing, 

The  freezing  tear-drops  fell  : 

"  Though  cruel  fate  divide  us  here, 

And  from  each  other  far  we  're  driven  ; 

Yet  this  sweet  thought  our  hearts  shall  cheer, 
We  '11  meet  again  in  heaven. 

"  Though  our  bright  hopes  must  fade  away, 
As  rainbow's  mingling  tints  are  riven, 

They  yet  shall  span  our  stormy  sky, 
And  always  blend  in  heaven. 


126  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

"  Though  here  they  drive  us  from  our  love, 
And  pluck  our  oft-watched  star  of  even, 

They  cannot  rend  our  hearts  above, 
For  all  is  love  in  heaven." 


POOR  Rip  was  moved  ;  and,  like  a  chip 

Upon  a  rapid  stream 
Was  borne  along  ;  alas,  poor  Rip ! 

And  did  as  passive  seem. 

For,  "  Art  is  long  "  the  poet  said, 

And  so  is  woman's  tongue  ; 
And  buxom  widows  love  to  wed, 

And  will,  if  they  are  young. 

And  Van  Horn's  widow,  Anneke, 
Was  young,  and  had  a  will ; 

A  tongue  and  two  bright  eyes  had  she, 
And  used  them  with  much  skill. 

A  widow  brings,  with  woman's  art, 

Experience  to  aid  ; 
And  therefore  acts  more  skillful  part, 

And  far  outstrips  a  maid. 

A  month  had  passed,  and  still  she  wept, 
And  needed  sympathy  ; 


RIP    VANQUISHED.  127 

And  smiles  and  tears  on  hand  she  kept, 
And  used  them  wondrously. 

She  knew  her  time,  she  knew  the  man, 

And  knew  her  witching  power  ; 
And  patiently  held  to  her  plan, 

And  waited  for  her  hour. 

Then  sweet  words,  from  her  rosy  lips, 

She  poured  in  rapid  streams  ; 
Enough  to  drown  a  score  of  Rips, 

And  twice  a  score  of  dreams. 

For  warning  dreams  and  visions  now 

Rip  little  thought,  or  felt ; 
The  coldness  vanished  from  his  brow  ; 

His  heart  began  to  melt. 

The  widow's  smile  he  caught,  poor  man ! 

And  then,  somehow,  her  hand 
Came  also,  without  art,  or  plan, 

And  was  a  magic  wand. 

He  held  her  hand  ;  the  widow's  tears, 

Like  gentle  dew-drops,  fell ; 
She  told  her  love,  she  told  her  fears  ; 

But  more  I  cannot  tell. 


128  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Rip  said  he  thought  he  ought  to  wait, 

At  least,  a  little  while, 
Before  he  chose  another  mate,  — 

But  paused  when  she  did  smile. 

She  set  the  wedding-day  before 
Bewildered  Rip  could  think. 

Then  vanished,  gliding  through  the  door, 
And  blushing  like  a  pink. 


THAT  night  Rip  dreamed  the  widow  was  a  witch, 
Riding  upon  a  broomstick  through  the  air. 
Averse  at  first,  he  soon  felt  sudden  itch 
To  be  astride  the  broomstick,  with  her  there  ; 
And  in  an  instant  found  him  at  her  side, 
And  flying  with  her  through  the  yielding  air  ; 
Himself  a  bridegroom,  she  the  happy  bride, 
Riding  to  church,  in  good  old  fatherland  ;  — 
The  very  church  where  he  and  his  Katrine, 
With  plighted  troth,  had  stood  with  hand  in  hand 
And  then  by  rapid  changing  in  the  scene, 
As  dreams  do  change  and  give  us  no  surprise, 
The  widow  vanished,  and  his  own  Katrine 
Stood  there  beside  him  with  her  downcast  eyes, 
And  held  her  trembling  hand  in  his,  and  said 
The  precious  words  that  made  her  his  for  life  ; 


KIP'S  SOLILOQUY.  129 

Then  waked  from  joy  to  weep  that  she  was  dead, 
And  vowed  he  would  not  have  another  wife. 

"  I  do  believe  this  widow  is  a  witch  !  " 
Said  Rip,  awake  and  talking  to  himself:  — 
"  Or,  I  am  like  a  blind  man  in  a  ditch : 
Poor  Hans  is  scarcely  laid  upon  the  shelf 
Ere  she  turns  round  and  wants  to  marry  me  ; 
Tells  me  that  Hans,  her  husband,  was  a  sot ; 
And  that  she  feels  her  need  of  sympathy  ; 
And  that  she  sympathizes  with  my  lot, 
For  life  is  lonesome  when  one  lives  alone  ; 
And  that 's  the  reason  why  so  oft  she  comes 
To  cheer  me,  with  her  whining,  wheedling  tone  ; 
And  says,  It  is  the  sunlight  cheers  men's  homes. 
What  does  she  mean  by  sunlight  ?   Well  I  know 
The  sun  went  out  when  my  Katrina  died, 
And  left  my  home  in  darkness,  me  in  woe,  —  v 
Left  all  the  world  in  darkness,  though  I  tried, 
As  man  should  try,  to  see  supernal  light 
To  walk  by  when  the  earthly  failed  my  sight. 
And  yet  a  pine-knot,  when  the  sun  goes  out 
Can  light  a  darkened  room  and  make  it  bright,  — 
Enough,  at  least,  to  help  one  grope  about, 
And  not  sit  moping  with  his  silent  grief, 
Which,  like  a  nightmare,  presses  out  his  life : 
And  mine  half  stifles  me,  till  for  relief 
I  almost  cry  aloud  for  my  dead  wife. 


130  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

"  What  if  I  take  this  widow  —  marry  her  — 
As  she  has  willed  I  shall :  what  shall  I  gain  ? 
Not  sunlight ;  but  the  noisy,  busy  whirr 
Of  work  ;    and   that,  perchance,  may  drown  my 

pain. 

Not  sunbeams,  but  the  pine-knot's  fickle  light, 
To    take    their    place,  —  her   place,    alack    the 

night ! 

This  one  to  that  is  rushlight  to  the  sun ; 
But  then  I  need  the  rushlight  in  the  dark  ! 
I  cannot  tell  what  web  the  fates  have  spun, 
Nor  how  great  fire  may  kindle  from  this  spark  ; 
The  widow  seems  to  pity  my  distress  ; 
She  smiles  and  sings  ;  and  that  is  very  kind, 
Here  in  the  lonely  woods  and  wilderness ; 
For  somehow  since  Katrina's  death  I  mind 
Much  more  the  dreary  lonesomeness  than  when 
She  was  alive  :  for  then  she  came  to  me, 
While  I  was  musing  in  the  woody  glen  ; 
Or  I  passed  to  her  far  across  the  sea, 
And  talked  to  her,  in  fancy,  half  the  day ; 
And   dreamed   of    her    the  sweetest   dreams,  by 

night. 
But   she    has    passed,  and    dreams   have   passed 

away  ; 

And  her  dear  vision  in  the  robes  of  white, 
Which  seldom  has  of  late  appeared  to  me, 
This  too  will  cease,  and  I  shall  be  alone : 


CONFESSIONS.  131 

The  widow,  then,  is  a  necessity ! 
Besides,  she  will  not  leave  her  work  undone  : 
She  has  so  willed  that  she  and  I  shall  wed. 
This  was  her  purpose  when  at  first  she  heard  — 
So  have  I  learned  —  that  my  Katrine  was  dead  ; 
And  well  I  know  the  saying  must  be  true,  — 
If  you  don't  court  a  widow,  she  9ll  court  you  ; 
And  if  she  does,  the  man  must  be  a  dunce 
Who  tries  to  fly,  and  does  not  yield  at  once. 
But  then  I  '11  tell  her,  like  an  honest  man, 
I  do  not  love  her,  and  I  never  can." 

Next  day  Rip  told  her,  as  he  vowed  he  would. 
He  said  he  'd  keep  his  promise,  —  marry  her,  - 
But  knew  he  did  not  love  her  as  he  should. 

Then   she :  —  " '  T  is  not  that  I  would  marry, 

sir  ! 

For  I  have  oft  and  often  thought  and  said, 
One  husband  is  enough  for  one  poor  life. 
And,  long  before  good  Hans  Van  Horn  was  dead, 
I  promised  truly,  as  a  faithful  wife, 
I  ne'er  again  would  marry  if  he  died. 
And  so  you  see,  if  I  should  marry  now, 
Poor  Hans  will  think  that  I  have  falsified, 
And  broke  a  solemn  sort  of  marriage  vow. 
But  then  Van  Horn,  — he  was  so  fond  of  gin, 
And  died  so  young,  and  drank  and  scolded  so  ! 
It  would  n't  be  so  very  much  a  sin 
To  marry  you  !  and  yet  I  do  not  know." 


132  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  widow,  pausing,  with  a  gentle  sigh 
Looked  down  upon  the  floor,  and  seemed  to  wait 
For  Rip  to  comfort  her  with  kind  reply. 
But  Rip  was  wary  now  of  widow-bait, 
And  merely  said,  '£  was  pity  Hans  should  die! 

But  Anneke  still  acted  out  her  part, 
With  woman's  tact,  and  willful,  gentle  art, 
With  widow's  past  experience  to  aid, 
By  which  a  widow  far  outstrips  a  maid  ! 
With  smiles  and  tears,  she  carried  out  her  plan, 
And  Rip  Van  Bigham  was  a  married  man 
Before  he  knew  it !  caught  and  held  and  bound  ! 
Himself  and  cattle,  cabin,  farming-ground, 
Woods,  meadows,  furniture,  and  household  things, — 
All  by  enchantment  seemed  to  have  taken  wings, 
And  fallen,  at  the  widow's  charmed  commands, 
Down  from  Katrina's  to  the  widow's  hands  ; 
To  keep,  to  hold,  to  use,  employ,  and  own 
What  was  to  be  Katrine's,  and  hers  alone. 

But  yet  Rip  honestly  confessed  and  said 
"  His  heart  was  still  Katrine's,  though   she  was 

dead. 

Man  loves  his  first  wife,  if  he  truly  loves, 
As  he  can  love  no  other  in  this  life. 
Their  hearts  are  mated,  like  a  pair  of  doves ; 
So  have  I  loved  Katrina,  my  first  wife, 
Who  from  my  heart  by  death  was  rudely  torn ; 
So  can  I  not  love  you,  do  what  I  can,  — 
Not  even  you,  the  widow  of  Van  Horn." 


THE  DAY  FIXED.  133 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  widow.     "  Rip,  you  are  a 

man  ! 

I  love  you  better  than  I  did  Van  Horn. 
A  fiddlestick  for  nonsense  !     I  '11  be  good, 
And  fill  Katrina's  place  as  best  I  may  ; 
And  do  whatever  she,  if  living,  would 
To  make  you  happy,  Rip,  by  night  or  day. 
Men   love   their  first  wives,   and,   'tis  sometimes 

said, 

Admire  their  second.     If  you  do  that  much 
For  me,  and  not  forget  your  first  is  dead, 
Why,  love  or  not :  't  is  all  the  same  in  Dutch, 
At  least  to  start  with  ;  so  let 's  go  ahead, 
And  let  Love  follow  after,  if  he  will ; 
And  if  he  wont,  why,  let  us  both  keep  still, 
And  shame  the  little  rascal  for  his  sloth : 
What 's  fair  for  one  is  surely  fair  for  both. 
I  promise  you  I  '11  be,  love  or  no  love, 
As  good  a  wife  as  you  a  husband  prove ; 
By  which  I  mean  I  '11  be  the  best  of  wives, 
And  you  the  best  of  husbands,  all  our  lives." 

And  then  she  fixed  their  wedding-day,  at  noon 
That  day  a  week.     "  She  needed  but  a  day ; 
Her  wedding-dress  ivas  ready  :  and  she  soon 
Could  change  her  mourning  garbs  for  dresses  gay. 
She  'd  dyed  a  couple,  when  Van  Horn  first  died, 
For  company  and  Sundays,  —  that  was  all ; 
And  these,  of  course,  she  now  would  lay  aside, 


134  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  not  go  covered  with  a  funeral  pall. 

She  meant  to  act  like  any  other  bride, 

And  take  her  bridegroom  with  becoming  pride." 

Rip  thought,  at  first,  the  widow  spake  in  sport ; 
But,  when  he  found  her  serious,  humbly  said, 
"  He  thought  the  time  she  set  was  rather  short ; 
Out  of  respect  and  honor  for  the  dead, 
The  day  should  be  at  least  six  months  ahead." 
But  she,  in  gentlest  mood,  at  once  replied, — 
"  Concerning  Hans,  I  think  't  is  hardly  so : 
I  knew  he  'd  die  six  months  before  he  died ; 
Which  makes  a  world  of  difference,  you  know, 
The  same  as  if  he  'd  died  seven  months  ago  ! 

"  And  then  Katrina  had  been  dead  some  time 
Before  the  news  could  reach  you  o'er  the  sea ; 
And  that  came  months  ago ;  so  what 's  the  crime 
Of  being  at  once  what  we  intend  to  be  ? 
The  dead  are  dead,  and  we  're  alive  and  free. 

u  You  know  what  Hans  was  ;  and  I  really  think 
I  was  his  widow  while  I  was  his  wife  ; 
For  he  was  often  drunk,  dead-drunk  with  drink, 
For  months  before  it  burned  away  his  life  : 
Poor  Hans  and  Death  had  such  a  tedious  strife  ! 

"  I  'm  glad,  good  Rip,  that  you  do  not  like  gin  ! 
You  used  to  take  with  Hans  a  little  flip, 


THE    WIDOW'S  TERMS.  1 

Like  other  yonkers,  at  the  Wayside-Inn  ; 
And  I  was  glad  to  have  you  do  it,  Rip ! 
It  did  me  good  to  see  you  sit  and  sip. 

"  But  if  you  put  fierce  liquors  to  your  lip, 
And  gulp  them  down,  as  Hans  did  in  his  dram, 
And  so  get  drunk  like  him,  I  '11  curse  you,  Rip, 
As  sure  as  I  'rn  the  daughter  of  Van  Dam  ; 
And  you  will  find  a  woman's  curse  no  sham. 

"  Hans  saw  not  in  his  cups  the  lurking  death  ! 
The  coiling  serpent  hid  itself  from  sight, 
Till  by  degrees  it  poisoned  all  his  breath, 
Then  struck  him  with  its  deadly  fang  that  night, 
And  left  him  dying  from  its  mortal  bite. 

"  Poor  man  !  and  yet  he  loved  me  so,  he  said, 
As  he  had  always  loved  me  from  the  first. 
I  'm  sorry  to  speak  evil  of  the  dead  ; 
But,  like  the  quenchless  fire  of  the  accurst, 
Was  Hans's  burning,  everlasting  thirst. 

"  Hans  said  he  did  n't  think  it  was  a  sin 
For  one  to  drink  when  dry ;  and  he  was  dry 
As  soon  as  he  had  drunk,  then  drank  again 
The  liquid  demons  of  old  Holland  gin  ! 
And  I  could  only  just  sit  down  and  cry, 
And  almost  long  yet  fear  to  see  him  die. 


136  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

"  He  died  a  victim  to  the  cursed  tank, 
And  drank  up  every  thing  on  earth  he  had. 
His  farm,  his  tavern,  horses,  —  all,  he  drank  ; 
My  household  things  !  O  Rip  !  that  was  too  bad  !  — 
And  left  me  here  a  widow,  lone  and  sad. 

"  I  tell  you,  Rip  !  that  was  a  day  of  woe, 
And  just  as  fresh  as  though  't  were  yesterday, 
Although  he  died  more  than  a  month  ago. 
And  now,  dear  Rip,  I  wish  to  hear  you  say 
You  '11  not  drink  gin  in  any  shape  or  way. 

"  Before  we  're  married,  just  this  noon  a  week, 
Declare  you  don't  love  gin,  nor  any  thing 
That  makes  such  horrid  blotches  on  the  cheek, 
And  swells  the  nose,  and  carries  in  its  sting 
Poison  that  kills  the  beggar  and  the  king. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  be  a  widow,  Rip  I 
So  promise  me  you  will  not  drink,  like  Hans, 
And  kill  yourself,  and  so  give  rne  the  slip. 
I  know  you  wont,  but  say  so  in  the  bans : 
A  widow  here  has  such  a  slender  chance  !  " 

Rip  felt  he  was  a  straw  upon  the  stream, 
To  float  which  way  the  widow  might  decide ; 
And  he  had  learned  that  't  was  no  idle  dream 
That,  when  a  widow  wills  to  be  a  bride 
He  who  resists,  resists  both  wind  and  tide  : 


RIP  CAPITULATES.  137 

Therefore  replied,  —  "  'T  was  well  as  she  had  said, 
Or  what  she  might  thereafter  have  to  say  ; 
Only  he  felt,  in  honor  for  the  dead, 
'T  was  rather  soon  to  fix  their  wedding-day : 
But  still  't  was  better  she  should  have  her  way. 

"  He  wished  that  Hans  had  lived  a  sober  man, 
And  had  not  died  at  all,  if  that  could  be. 
But  Hans  had  carried  out  his  mortal  plan,  — 
Had  had  his  way,  and  died.     And  she,  —  why  she 
Must  now  have  hers,"  said  Rip,  abstractedly. 

"  Hans  has  not  only  given  me  a  wife 

By  doing  as  I  urged  him  not  to  do, 

But  also  an  example  for  my  life,  — 

A  warning  not  to  drink  till  I  am  blue ; 

And  I  will  mind,  my  dear,  both  him  and  you. 

"  I  did  not  wonder  Hans  began  to  bloat 
Before  he  'd  swallowed  half  his  house  and  farm  : 
I  saw  his  horses  gallop  down  his  throat, 
And  told  him  they  would  do  a  deal  of  harm, 
By  such  a  course  ;  but  he  felt  no  alarm. 

"  I  then  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  my  flip, 
In  hopes  that  Hans  would  therefore  stop  his  gin ; 
And  often  went  a-dry,"  said  honest  Rip, 
"  And  choking  for  a  drink,  day  out  and  in. 
But  my  example  was  not  worth  a  pin. 


138  ONE    WIFE   TOO   MANY. 

"  Now  he  is  dead  and  gone.     And  my  Katrine 

Is  dead  and  gone  !  "  he  added  with  a  sigh  ; 

"  Death,  like  a  black-robed  priest,  has  come  between 

Our  dead  and  us,  to  join  us  with  the  tie 

That  binds  the  living  pair  till  one  shall  die. 

"  So  be  it,  then  !  we  cannot  stay  the  Fates  ; 
To-day  a  week  send  for  the  Dominie, 
And  let  him  tie  the  knot  to  make  us  mates. 
I  've  always  held,  what  is  is  sure  to  be  : 
And  this  no  doubt  is  down  in  the  decree  !  " 


XIII. 

THE   DOMINIE. 

THAT  day  a  week,  the  Dominie  appeared, 
By  message  sent  across  the  Tappan  Zee  : 

Through  watery  dangers  and  far  distance,  cheered 
By  prospect  of  good  time  and  wedding-fee, 
He  came,  equipped  with  due  authority. 

He  was  a  goodly  man,  of  great  renown 

In  all  the  country  round,  both  far  and  near  : 

On  either  side  the  Hudson,  up  and  down, 

He  much  was  loved,  and  held  in  reverent  fear, 
And  spake  such  words  as  did  men  good  to  hear. 


THE  DOMINIE.  139 

By  free  consent,  endowed  like  feudal  lord  ; 
Withouten  feudal  fiefs  or  lands  or  power,  — 

Without  the  brazen  trumpet  and  the  sword, 
He  ruled  the  land  as  doth  the  summer  shower, 
That  falls  to   bless  the  earth   with   fruit   and 
flower. 

"  What  says  the  Dominie  to  "  this  or  that  ? 
Decided  questions,  quarrels,  and  the  like, 

And  knocked  the  stoutest  controversy  flat : 
It  settled  matters  of  the  Church  or  pike, 
And  stopped  the  tide  of  passion,  or  a  dyke. 

When  mounted  on  his  horse,  or  in  his  "  chair,"  — 
A  two-wheeled  vehicle  of  ancient  days.  — 

All  knew  him  through  the  country,  everywhere ; 
For  none  but  he  e'er  rode  in  such  a  chaise  ; 
And  e'en  his  horse  had  ministerial  ways. 

When  standing  in  the  pulpit,  —  and  he  stood 
In  many  a  one,  for  miles  and  miles  around,  — 

He  looked  a  symbol  of  the  pure  and  good, 
If  any  such  in  all  the  world  was  found ; 
And   preached  the    doctrines  solid,  clear,  and 
sound. 

When,  calling  on  his  way  from  house  to  house, 
His  robust  frame  and  cheery  face  was  seen, 


140  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  sight  was  hailed  with  joy  by  men  and  vrouws ; 
And  little  children  came,  with  instinct  keen, 
To  climb  his  knees,  and  on  his  chair  to  lean. 

Learned  with  the  learned,  he  prattled  like  a  child, 
And  laughed  as  free  as  any  water-brook, 

When  with  the  little  ones  ;  so  meek  and  mild, 
So  much  in  sympathy,  in  heart  and  look, 
With  man  he  was,  though  steeped  in  lore  of 
book. 

His  buckled  shoes  ;  his  broad  three-cornered-hat ; 
Knee-breeches,  tight  above  the  swelling  hose  ; 

The  easy  way  in  which  he  always  sat, 

And  smoked  his  pipe  with  calm,  serene  repose,  — 
Would  in  our  day  look  oddly,  I  suppose. 

In  our  fast  times,  the  Dominie  might  be  thought 
Long-winded,  for  he  preached  a  full  long  hour, 

And  sometimes  two,  when  Satan  must  be  fought, 
Until  the  truth  had  triumphed  o'er  his  power : 
Such  wind  would  make  our  Gospel  milk  turn 
sour. 

But  in  the  days  when  people  came  from  far, 

And  walked  ten  miles  to  church,  sometimes  a 

score, 
Bringing  their  lunch  along,  it  was  no  bar 


THE  DOMINIE.  141 

If  they  took  back,  beside  the  feast,  in  store 
A  basketful  of  Gospel  crumbs,  or  more. 

Things  different  seem  from  different  points  of  view : 
We  like  short  sermons,  they  liked  sermons  long ; 

They  liked  the  old,  we  like  to  have  things  new  ; 
We  like   the   doctrines  weak,  they  liked   them 
strong  ; 

We  believe,  as  they  did,  our  religion  true, 

But  then  we  wish  as  little  as  will  do. 

Hence  they  the  church  clock  placed   outside  the 

tower, 
That  all  to  church  might  always  punctual  be, 

Nor  lose  a  moment  of  the  sacred  hour  : 
We  place  it  inside,  that  the  Dominie 
The  time  to  let  us  out  may  promptly  see. 

The  thorn  in  Dominie's  flesh,  not  all  concealed, 
And  yet  not  fully  known,  was  Dominie's  wife. 

It  could  not  all  be  hid,  and,  half  revealed, 
Distorted,  grew  to  fierce  domestic  strife, 
By  tongues  that  love  to  mar  a  good  man's  life. 

But   she    was   crazed.      How   well   he   bore    her 

tongue, 

How  meekly  all  her  strange,  erratic  ways, 
Remembering  what  she  was  when  she  was  young,  — 


142  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

All  this  was  known,  at  length,  and  turned  to 

praise 
The  slanderous  words  that  stung  his  earlier  days. 

These  things  I  tell  not  for  her  detriment, 

But  for  the  sake  of  truthful  history, 
And  for  his  name  and  fame  who  came  and  went 

Long  years  with  this  great  grief,  unmurmur 
ing1^— 

The  good,  long-suffering,  cheerful  Dominie. 

She  took  delight  in  thwarting  all  his  plans  ; 

Tore  up  his  sermons  ;  sent  his  horse  astray, 
When  harnessed  for  a  journey ;  stopped  the  bans 

Of  marriages  ;  appeared  in  strange  array  ; 

And  teased  the  patient  Dominie  night  and  day. 

On  Sunday,  when  the  church  was  going  in, 
She  locked  him  fast  within  his  study-door ; 

Then  told  inquiring  wardens  he  had  been 
Through  Sleepy  Hollow  on  the  day  before, 
Since  when  he'd  nothing  done  but  sleep  and  snore. 

She  knew  by  instinct,  or  by  dream  profound, 
In  which  she  was  the  Dominie's  equal  mate, 

His  plans  and  projects,  in  parochial  round  ; 
And  with  his  secret  thoughts  seemed  intimate, 
By  intromission  strange  and  intricate. 


THE  DOMINIE.  143 

To  journey  with  him  wheresoe'er  he  went, 
But  most  of  all  when  he  should  go  alone 

For  public  weal,  her  mind  was  always  bent : 
"  I  needs  must  go  !  "  she  said  in  wifely  tone, 
u  Because  we  twain  are  one  in  flesh  and  bone." 

He  often  hid  his  horse  and  chair  apart 
In  distant  orchard,  or  more  distant  wood, 

Then  slipped  around  when  ready  for  a  start, 
Unknown  to  her,  he    thought,    when,   lo!    she 

stood, 
All  ready  by  the  chaise,  with  sha^vl  and  hood  ! 

When  on  the  way,  she  'd  stop  the  pony  short, 
And  bid  the  Dominie  out,  to  walk  up  hill  ; 

And,  after  he  had  reached  the  top,  for  sport 
Drive  on,  and  make  him  run  and  walk,  until 
'T  would  seem  his  flesh  must  surely  take  it  ill. 

In  sooth  it  was  a  sorry  sight  to  see 

Such  weighty  man  up  a  high  hill  ascend  ; 

For  large,  though  comely,  was  the  Dominie  : 
His  weight  of  head  did  make  his  body  bend, 
And  breathe  so  short  it  did  to  wheezing  tend. 

The  pony,  once  a  kind,  obedient  horse, 

Began  at  length  his  cunning  ears  to  drop 
Backward,  to  catch  the  pro-and-con  discourse  ; 


144  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  then  to  loiter,  then  to  halt  and  stop, 
And  by  the  road  the  wayside  grass  to  crop,  — 

For  he  was  injured  much  by  their  discourse. 

When  one  said,  Go  !  the  other  one  said,  Whoa  ! 
Divided  counsels  first  perplexed  the  horse, 

As  they  do  yonkers  in  our  homes,  we  know ; 

Then  spoiled  him,  as  they  do  the  yonkers  too. 

The  horse,  by  nature  amiable  and  mild, 
And  regular  in  his  habits  as  a  mill, 

Though  petted  much  like  favorite,  only  child, 
Learned  from  his  mistress,  by  example  ill, 
To  balk,  and  fight  to  have  his  way  and  will. 

The  Dominie  preached  a  sermon  from  this  text, 

To  show  how  children  learn  to  disobey. 
By  family  conflicting  councils  vext, 

They,  puzzled,  know  not  which  to    choose  ;  so 

they 

Become   self-willed,  and  balk,   and   have  their 
way. 

He  set  the  pony  up,  for  an  example, 
Before  the  congregation,  till  they  saw 

With  their  own  eyes  the  illustrative  sample  ; 
And  all  confessed  his  words  were  true  as  law, 
And  must  have  hit  the  pony  in  the  raw. 


THE  DOMINIE.  145 

It  did  him  good  ;  I  speak  to  pony's  praise  ! 

Thereafter  he  did  lead  a  better  life 
By  straightening  many  of  his  crooked  ways  ; 

And  he  and  Dominie,  when  without  his  wife, 
Did  jog  along  without  a  jar  of  strife. 

But,  now  that  Bigham's  wedding-day  drew  nigh, 
He  found  her  dressed   from   hat    to  shoes   in 

white  ; 
And  sooth  she  was.  to  any  mortal  eye, 

With  face  all    chalked    and  corpse-like  in   the 

light, 
A  ghostly,  weird,  and  most  sepulchral  sight. 

Her  willful  purpose  Dominie  tried  to  change,  — 
She  must  not  go  ;  when,  lo  !  she  thus  began,  — 

Strange  fire  within  her  eye,  her  language  strange  : 
u  'T  is  you,  had  better  change  your  purposed  plan 
Of  marrying  one  who  is  a  married  man  ! 

"  I  've  dreamed  a  dream  ;  and,  Dominie,  beware 
How  you  attempt  to  cross  the  Tappan  Zee  ! 

The  man  you  go  to  marry  I  could  swear, 
If  that  should  be  demanded,  is  not  free 
From  his  first  wife,  no  more  than  you  from  me. 

"  I  know  his  story,  and  I  know  his  lie  !  - 

4  He  left  a  wife  in  Holland,  and  she  died/ 
10 


146  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

That  wife  I  saw  last  night.     She  did  not  die  ! 
Her    wraith  came   to   me   in  my  dreams,   and 

sighed, 
And  told  me  that  the  Captain's  lips  had  lied. 

"  '  His  lips,  but  not  his  heart,'  she  meekly  said, 
'  Had  brought  the  mortal  lie  across  the  sea.' 

'  But  look  ! '  she  said  ;  '  I  live !  I  am  not  dead  !  ' 
And  thus  three  times  did  she  appear  to  me  ; 
By  which  I  know  the  dream 's  reality. 

"  I  laugh  to  think  you  fear  lest  I  should  plan 
To  see  this  marriage  !    If  I  go  at  all, 

'T  will  be  to  stop  it  with  a  corpse's  ban ! 
I  '11  be  a  wraith,  and  take  the  funeral  pall 
To  catch  the  widow-bride  in,  if  she  fall. 

"  I  will  not  go !  I  do  not  choose  to  go  ! 

I  '11  be  no  party  to  this  woeful  fun,  — 
This  widow  throwing  off  her  weeds  of  woe, 

Ere  yet  her  husband  's  cold,  for  this  new  one  ; 

This  widower  with  a  living  wife  undone  !  " 

The  Dominie  was  glad  to  be  released, 
But  felt  the  shadow  of  prophetic  fears, 

Which  fall  upon  the  greatest  and  the  least ; 
Besides,  he  knew  his  wife,  these  many  years, 
Had  other  dreams  than  those  which  fancy  rears. 


THE    WEDDING.  147 

But  soon  his  journey  drove  the  dream  away, 

While  in  his  mind  he  thought  Rip's  history  o'er : 

And  he  had  known  the  Captain  many  a  day ; 
And  all  seemed  clearer  as  he  thought  the  more  ; 
And  he  passed  on  undoubting,  as  before. 

Leaving  his  home,  he  left  all  care  behind, 

Full  sure  't  would  not  take  wings,  but  wait  him 
there ; 

And  shadows  fled  before  his  sunny  mind, 
While  conning  o'er,  in  brisk  and  wintry  air, 
His  marriage  ceremony  quaint  and  rare. 

At  length  arrived,  he  found  the  two  together.  — 
Van  Bigham  and  Van  Horn.     The   day   was 
cold, 

But  not  too  cold,  Rip  said,  for  wintry  weather ; 
Just  such  a  day  as  Cato,  black  and  old 
And  weather-wise,  the  night  before  foretold. 

THE  WEDDING. 

No  marriage-bells  rang  out  their  merry  chimes, 
The  frozen  echoes  of  the  woods  to  wake  ; 

Nor  liveried  lackeys,  in  those  sylvan  times, 

Nor  white-gloved  grooms,  nor  frosted  cards  and 

cake, 
Were  needed  for  a  decent  wedding's  sake. 


148  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  trees  were  dressed  in  purest  snow-white  robes  ; 
The  sleigh-bells  rattled  out  their  roundelay  ; 

Huge   fires   roared   on    the   hearths,   in   burning 

globes, 

And  shed  a  radiance  like  the  sun  in  May, 
Which  helped  the  widow  blush    and  Rip  look 


The  guests  came  gathering  in  from  far  and  near, 
Some  riding  horseback,  pillion-saddle-wise,  — 

The  trusty  vrouw  behind  her  goodman  dear, 
But  most  in  sleds,  of  various  forms  and  size, 
For   snow  had   fallen  betimes   from   thoughtful 
skies. 

When  all  had  come,  and  when  the  time  had  come, 
The  twain  stood  forth  before  two  vacant  chairs  ; 

And  all  the  guests,  as  if  by  tap  of  dram, 
Arose,  dividing  off  in  several  pairs  ; 
And  then  the  Dominie  began,  with  prayers. 

These  done  at  last,  he,  rustling  in  his  gown, 
With  solemn  form  and  long  rehearsal  told 
How  marriage  pure  from  Eden  had  come  down, 
With  orange-blossoms   wreathed   and  rings  of 

gold, 

And   strewed  the    earth  with   blessings   mani 
fold  ; 


THE    WEDDING-FEAST.  149 

How  great  a  blessing  Eve  to  Adam  was  ; 
How  Jacob  toiled  and  toiled  to  get  a  wife  ; 

How  the  old  patriarchs  broke  the  marriage  laws  ; 
And  bigamy  brought  family  feuds  and  strife, 
And  poisoned  with  its  roots  the  springs  of  life. 

Thus  step  by  step,  down  to  that  present  day, 

Stopping  at  Cana  half  an  hour  at  least, 
To  see  the  water-pots,  in  long  array, 

Pour  forth  their  God-made  wine    to  cheer  the 

feast, 

And  blush  for  man  whom  wine  can  change  to 
beast. 

Then  joining,  hand  to  hand,  Rip  and  Van  Horn, 
He  bound  them  fast  with  clasps  of  solemn  vows, 

From  which  by  death  alone  could  they  be  torn  ; 
Then  bade  the  husband  kiss  the  blushing  spouse, 
In  sign  that  love  should  ever  rule  their  house. 


THEN  smoked  the  festive  table  with  its  food,  — 
Game,  venison,  fowls,  and  crisp,  infantile  pork ; 

While  in  the  midst  a  drunken  rooster  stood, 
Ready  to  crow  at  touch  of  carver's  fork. 

Sweet  cider,  flip,  hot  rum,  well  spiced  and  strong, 
And,  last  and  least,  the  home-made  currant- wine, 


150  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Came,  when  the  joyous  feast  was  well  along, 
To  free  the  tongue,  and  make  the  face  to  shine. 

Then  came  the  story,  and  the  merry  laugh, 
That  shook  the  rafters  and  the  oaken  floors, 

And  made  the  old  man  throw  away  his  staff, 
To  mock  the  winter  grumbling  out  of  doors. 

And  then  the  dance,  as  hearty  as  the  feast, 
With  foot  as  merry  as  the  merriest  tongue ; 

And  all  must  join,  the  greatest  and  the  least : 
None  was  too  old  to  dance,  and  none  too  young. 

Old  Cato,  known  to  all  the  neighborhood, 

As   black  as  Night,  with   eyes  like  twin  half- 
moons, 

From  his  old  fiddle  of  well-seasoned  wood, 

In  measured  time,  scraped  out  the  rustic  tunes. 

Thus  passed  the  day  until  the  sinking  sun 

Advised  the  guests  't  was  time  to  kiss  the  bride, 

And  leave  her  to  the  bridegroom  she  had  won, 
And  homeward  hasten  on  their  evening  ride. 

Such  was  a  wedding  in  the  olden  days, 

When  joy  was  pure,  though  rude  and  rustic  born ; 

And  Rip  was  married  in  these  simple  ways, 
And  took  to  wife  the  widow  of  Van  Horn, 
And  paid  the  Dominie's  fee  in  oats  and  corn. 


WIFE  NUMBER    TWO.  151 

XIV. 
WIFE   NUMBER  TWO. 

OF  all  the  strange  things  in  this  world  of  ours, 
Not  to  name  other  worlds  not  so  well  known 

In  the  upper  or  lower  division, 
Beyond  our  inquisitorial  powers,  — 
In  this  world,  where  so  many  things  are  strange, 
As  science  and  art  have  everywhere  shewn, 

In  questions  for  our  decision, 
Whatever  the  object  that  comes  within  range 

Of  our  inward  or  outward  vision, 
There  's  nothing  more  strange  than  the  heart  of 
man, 

Be  it  human,  or  be  it  inhuman, 
Unless,  by  a  chance,  we  happen  to  scan 

The  stranger  heart  of  a  woman. 
Search  all  the  way  down,  from  tallest  to  tall, 
And  all  the  way  round,  from  greatest  to  small, 
And  on  till  you  come  to  nothing  at  all, 
You  '11  find,  in  all  cases,  the  heart  to  be 
A  puzzle,  a  cheat,  and  a  mystery. 

Old  Goldsmeller,  dead  in  the  churchyard  now, 
Who  had  such  a  narrow  and  puckery  brow, 

And  such  a  contracted  breast, 
And  always  spoke  hollow  and  empty,  somehow, 
As  if  there  was  nothing  at  all  in  his  chest,  — 


152  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Though  every  one  knew  he  had  plenty  of  pelf, 
But  that  he  always  kept  all  to  himself ; 
Who  never  would  smile,  for  the  reason  he  feared 
If  he  smiled,  some  prodigal  thief  might  steal  it, 
And  so  at  his  private  expense  be  cheered, 
And  he  at  some  far  future  day  might  feel  it. 

And  the  same  with  his  bread  and  cheese ; 
In  short,  he  acted  so  niggard  a  part 
That  nobody  knew  he  had  any  heart 

Till  he  died  of  heart  disease. 

And  so  with  the  widow  of  Hans  Van  Horn : 
While  yet  she  was  merely  the  maid  Van  Dam, 
Those  rollicking  blades  whose  hearts  she  had  torn 
All  called  her  coquettish,  an  empty  sham. 
But,  when  they  saw  what  a  good,  loving  wife 
She  made  Van  Horn  ;  how  she  helped  him  through 

life, 

And  grieved  at  his  death  ;  and  felt  for  poor  Rip,  — 
The  very  same  rollicking,  slanderous  crew, 
Although  she  had  given  them  all  the  slip, 
Were  forced  to  confess,  with  a  sober  lip, 
That,  so  far  from  having  no  heart,  they  knew 
The  plump  little  thing  had  enough  for  two ! 

With  this  explanation,  need  I  relate 
How  Rip  soon  learned  to  succumb  to  his  fate  ? 
He  moved  to  his  cabin  ;  and  there,  between 
Enlarging  and  fixing  and  change  of  scene, 


WIFE  NUMBER    TWO.  153 

He  almost  forgot  to  think  of  Katrine, 

Except  when  the  tree  he  'd  named  for  her  name  — 

Which  stood  in  the  door-yard,  looking  the  same 

As  when  he  planted  it,  tender  and  young  — 

Would  seemingly  speak  to  him  with  the  tongue 

Which  sweet  zephyrs  gave  it,  softly  and  mild ; 

Or  when,  in  the  windy  tempest  and  wild, 

He  heard  it  moan  out  with  a  human  moan, 

Poor  Rip  would  then  sometimes  weep  like  a  child, 

But  he  always  wept  alone. 
And  he  wept  alone  for  the  reason  why 
A  man  never  likes  to  be  seen  to  cry  ; 
And  a  happy  bridegroom,  he  knew,  ought  to  sing 
On  a  natural  key,  and  not  on  a  flat. 
But  Rip  had  a  genuine  heart,  for  all  that ; 
For  the  heart  is  a  very  strange  thing. 

And  Anneke  led  him  a  very  good  life  ; 
She  made  the  log-cabin  look  neat  and  clean, 
And  a  tidier  door-yard  never  was  seen. 
She  did  her  best,  with  a  smile  on  her  face, 
With  busiest  fingers  and  winning  grace, 
In  every  way,  to  fill  up  the  place 
Which  she  knew  for  all  that,  with  instinct  keen, 
Still  empty  remained,  of  the  dead  Katrine  ; 
For  having  the  instinct  of  womankind, 
She  jealous  became  of  the  dead  Katrine, 

Though  not  a  word  she  said. 
But  Anneke  had  a  feminine  heart, 


154  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

That  needs  to  be  sought,  to  be  wooed  and  won, 

And  needs  a  whole  husband,  and  not  a  part, 

Though  the  very  best  under  the  sun. 

But,  think  what  she  might,  she  managed  her  tongue 

With  womanly  skill,  and  womanly  tact ; 

For  well  she  knew  she  was  handsome  and  young, 

And,  like  a  wise  woman,  made  most  of  the  fact 

In  her  toilet  and  dress  and  every  act, 

And  left  the  remainder  to  time. 

Nor  did  she  for  evermore  harp  and  chime 

On  the  ancient  affection  of  dead  Van  Horn, 

To  show  how  her  heart  had  been  rudely  torn, 

When,  dying,  he  gave  her  a  sudden  slip, 

And  left  her  alone  in  the  world  with  Rip : 

Nor  held  up  his  virtues,  that  Rip  might  see 

A  model  of  what  a  husband  should  be, 

As  many  a  man,  in  the  course  of  his  life, 

Perhaps  may  have  heard  from  his  second  wife. 

The  widow  Kissam,  who  married  Verbeck, 
As  soon  as  the  rules  that  held  her  in  check 
Would  allow,  at  least  it  was  so  understood,  — 
For  all  the  Ny ackers  said  that  she  would, 
And  some  of  them  said  she  married  too  soon,  — 
Had  scarcely  got  through  her  new  honeymoon, 
And  settled  again,  before  she  began 
To  hold  up  Kissam  as  the  model  man, 
After  the  usual  custom  and  plan. 


WIFE  NUMBER    TWO.  155 

And  Verbeck,  who  every  one  thought  before 

As  moral  as  any  on  Tappan  shore,  — 

Who  never  was  known  to  drink  or  to  swear, 

And  never  appeared  to  have  any  care 

To  fret  him,  or  make  him  the  worse  for  wear,  — 

Began  to  grow  fretful  and  glum  and  old, 

And  looked  like  a  grumbling,  masculine  scold, 

And  swore  like  a  terrible  trooper  bold, 

And  guzzled  hot  gin  like  a  spirit  vext 

That  cared  not  a  schnapp  for  this  world  or  next. 

And  the  more   that  he  drank   and   scolded   and 

swore, 

His  wife  only  held  up  Kissam  the  more  ; 
And  the  more  that  she  held  up  Kissam,  the  more 
Verbeck  only  grumbled  and  drank  and  swore, 
And  every  day  worse  than  the  day  before. 
Thus  she,  like  a  wise,  affectionate  wife, 
At  any  time  ready  to  give  her  life 
To  save  her  husband  the  sullen  Verbeck, 
Was  driving  him  down,  without  the  least  check, 
To  the  place  where  no  one  would  wish  to  dwell. 
By  making  her  first  husband's  name  a  bell,  — 
Her  tongue  for  clapper,  —  Kissam  rang  the  knell 
Of  her  second,  until,  with  stagger  and  swell, 
He  tumbled  headlong  into  Hades,  pell-mell ; 
But  whether  he  fared  there  nearly  as  well 
As  with  her  at  home,  I  hardly  need  tell. 


156  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  there  was  Deacon  Van  Tassel,  good  man, 
Who  went  to  work  on  the  usual  plan 
With  his  number  two,  the  meek  Betsey  Ann, 
Until,  in  a  year,  he  had  almost  killed  her 
With  his  number  one,  dear  Mary  Matilda  ! 
By  boasting  so  much  of  his  sainted  first, 
He  filled  the  second  with  wrath,  till  she  burst. 
And,  had  it  not  been  for  the  vent  in  her  eye, 
And  a  chance  now  and  then  to  slip  out  and  cry, 
She  said  she  believed  in  her  heart  she  would  die. 
He  gloried  to  tell  Betsey  Ann,  his  second, 
How  Mary  Matilda,  his  first,  had  been  reckoned 
A  pattern  in  every  arrangement  of  life,  — 
Of  course  an  obedient,  model  wife, 
Avoiding  all  gossip  and  scandal  and  strife ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  did  this  and  that, 
Wore  such  and  such  dresses,  and  such  a  hat, 
And  made  her  home  pleasant  with  pious  chat ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  was  fond  of  dishes 
That  always  agreed  with  her  husband's  wishes, 
And  so  very  prompt  and  nice  with  the  food 
'T  was  always  in  time,  and  always  was  good  ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  took  care  of  her  feet, 
And  did  not  go  gadding  from  street  to  street ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  took  care  of  her  tongue, 
And  did  n't  allow  it  to  go  as  if  hung, 
Like  that  of  a  hollow  brass  bell,  to  be  run^ 

'  O 

Where'er  the  noisy  thing  chanced  to  be  swung ; 


WIFE  NUMBER   TWO.  157 

That  Mary  Matilda  was  prompt  at  meeting, 
And  always  noticed  the  poor  with  a  greeting  ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  read  very  much 
Her  good  old  Bible,  in  vellum  and  Dutch ; 
That  Mary  Matilda  was  ever  given 
To  duties  of  earth,  and  service  of  Heaven  : 
In  short,  the  good  Deacon,  with  no  complaint 
Of  his  second,  made  out  his  first  such  a  saint, 
That  she,  though  trained  in  the  shade  of  a  stee 
ple, 

And  fond  from  her  girlhood  of  all  good  people,  — 
Though  likewise  she  made  no  sort  of  complaint, 
Yet  heard  so  much  of  Matilda  the  saint, 
As  pattern  of  good  and  chider  of  evil, 
Her  love  for  the  pious  grew  very  faint, 
And  got  so  she  finally  hated  a  saint 
As  once  she  had  hated  the  devil. 

But,  after  a  time,  the  Deacon  began 
To  smell  a  rat,  like  a  sensible  man,  — 
The  grave-rat,  gnawing  by  night  and  day, 
And  eating  the  heart  of  his  wife  away : 
The  Deacon,  in  other  words,  found  it  best 
To  leave  his  Mary  Matilda  at  rest, 
Like  a  saint  as  she  was,  in  Abraham's  breast, 
And  not  keep  bringing  her  back  to  his  own, 
Where  now  Betsey  Ann  had  such  rights  alone. 

From  that  time  onward,  the  Deacon  began 
To  appear  to  his  wife  like  another  man. 
And  Mary  Matilda,  where  she  should  be, 


158  ONE   WIFE    TOO  MANY. 

In  mansions  of  bliss,  soon  got  herself  free 
Of  all  those  features  which  gave  Betsey  Ann 
A  fit  of  hysterics  or  sulks,  to  scan  ; 
And  made  her,  instead  of  praying  for  grace, 
Desire  to  go,  when  she  died,  to  the  place 
Where  she  would  n't  see  the  sainted  one' 's  face. 

When  left  to  herself,  from  that  very  day 
She  tripped  about  in  her  natural  way, 
And  bloomed  and  blushed  like  a  flower  in  May  ; 
And  seemed  much  more  of  a  saint  than  a  sinner 
When  the  Deacon  sat  down  to  his  daily  dinner, 
Without  the  old  skeleton,  or  the  least 
Of  Mary  Matilda  dear,  at  the  feast. 
From  that  day  forth,  there  was  no  more  strife 
In  the  Deacon's  house  through  the  Deacon's  long 

life  : 

And  sweet  Betsey  Ann  was  as  good  a  wife 
As  Mary  Matilda  had  ever  been  ; 
And  the  Deacon  well  knew  and  felt  it  within, 
Though  number  one,  of  course,  was  the  first, 
And  best  of  course,  if  the  best  or  the  worst. 

Without  confession  of  any  transgression 
'Gainst  rhyme  or  reason  in  this  one  digression, 
Lest  others  may  ask  for  the  same  confession, 
"  I  return,"  as  the  Dominie  used  to  say 
When  owning  that  he  'd  been  out  of  the  way,  — 
As  Dominies  sometimes  do  in  our  day, 
To  fetch  back  the  sheep  who  have  gone  astray, 


WIFE  NUMBER    TWO.  159 

By  telling  a  story  some  truth  to  enforce,  — 
"  I  return  to  the  thread  of  my  long  discourse," 
Though    I   hardly  know  where  to   look   for   the 

thread, 

In  such  a  snarl  of  the  living  and  dead,  — 
Such  tangled-up  mixtures  of  bit  and  shred, 
Like  Dominie's  sermon,  whose  parts  he  meant 
Should  somehow  lean  to  the  general  bent 
Of  the  end  that  he  had  in  his  wise  intent ; 
Though,  as  for  the  ending,  nobody  knew 
If  the  Dominie  had  any  end  in  view ! 
Admitting  he  had,  and  allowing  he  knew  it, 
He  travelled  so  far  in  coming  round  to  it, 
They  thought,  who  waited  to  see  him  quite  through 

it, 

'T  was  so  far  ahead  he  never  could  view  it. 
His  "  Finally  "  never  was  able  to  do  it, 
Though  often  sent  forth  as  if  to  pursue  it, 
Like  a  hawk  on  the  track  of  a  frightened  bird  ; 
But  still  his  Finally  was  the  good  word 
That  awakened  the  church  in  every  part, 
And  started  a  smile  from  every  heart, 
As  if  a  fresh  plant  of  some  heavenly  grace 
Had  suddenly  sprouted  in  every  face. 
But  "  Finally,"  though  't  was  able  to  send 
Such  thrills  as  to  make  the  church  sleepers  bend, 
And  those  who  had  ears  all  their  ears  to  lend, 
As  doubtless  the  Dominie  did  intend  ; 
Yet  "  Finally  "  was  not  always  the  end. 


160  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

'T  was  merely  used  for  a  little  delay, 
To  help  the  Dominie  feel  for  his  way 
When,  as  I  have  said,  he  had  gone  astray, 
And  think  what  't  was  he  was  going  to  say, 
And  catch  the  thread  of  his  straying  discourse ; 
As  salt  is  made  use  of  to  catch  a  horse. 
So  now,  with  a  final  to  "  Finally," 
For  which  you  will  thank  the  good  Dominie, 
"  I  return  to  the  thread,"  and  find  it  to  be 
In  Bigham's  log-cabin  on  Tappan  Zee, 
In  the  hands  of  industrious  Anneke, 
In  the  eye  of  a  needle,  which  needle  she 
Is  plying  just  now  perseveringly, 
In  making  a  cushion  of  silk  and  leather. 
The  work  seems  to  fret  and  puzzle  her  much  ; 
For  often  she  stops,  and  mutters,  in  Dutch, 
That  what  she  is  sewing  she  's  doubtful  whether 
Was  ever  intended  to  come  together  ! 
The  pieces  are  puzzles,  in  shape  of  hearts, 
Of  zig-zag  patterns,  uneven  in  parts  ; 
And  Anneke  stamps  her  foot  as  she  plies 
The  needle  and  thread,  and  nervously  tries 
To  sew  them  together,  and  make  them  fit. 
Now,  pausing,  she  laughs  at  her  lack  of  wit,  — 
With  one  breath  saying  i  she  's  nearer  to  it ; ' 
With  another, '  she  knows  she  's  not  gained  a  bit : ' 
Then,  speaking  aloud  to  herself  alone, 
Says,  "  That's  the  way  with  Rip's  heart  and  my 
own ! 


WIFE  NUMBER   TWO.  161 

For  Rip  will  have  a  dead  queen  on  his  throne  ; 

Though  dead  and  long  buried,  beyond  the  main, 

Katrina  must  sit  in  his  heart  and  reign  ! 

He  acts  just  as  crazy  as  crazy  Jean,  — 

The  love-cracked  widow  of  Philip  of  Spain, 

Who  bore  the  corpse  of  her  husband,  they  said, 

Wherever  she  travelled,  from  place  to  place, 

Refusing  to  own  that  the  king  was  dead  ; 

Now  kissing  his  lips  and  patting  his  face, 

Then  breathing  the  love  of  a  living  wife 

In  the  ears  of  a  corpse,  as  if  it  had  life  ! 

And  Rip  acts  the  same  with  his  dead  Katrine,  — 

As  silly  and  crazy  as  crazy  Jean ! 

He  carries  her  image  from  place  to  place, 

And  thinks  of  her  always,  I  know  by  his  face  ; 

Though  he  tries  to  hide  his  thoughts   from   my 

sight, 
He  calls  out  her  name  in  his  sleep  at  night !  " 

Thus  Anneke  talked  to  herself  alone, 
Still  plying  away  at  the  work  undone, 
With  fast-running  tongue,  till  Bigham  came  in, 
When,  ceasing  her  humble-bee  sort  of  din, 
She  rose  to  salute  him  with  smile  and  kiss, 
In  sign  of  her  perfect  connubial  bliss  ; 
Which  shows  the  old  time  was  very  like  this. 

Good  Rip,  with  dog  Rover  and  gun,  had  been 
In  neighboring  woods,  for  a  pouch  of  game  ; 
And  Anneke  vowed  she  never  had  seen 
11 


162  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Him  look  so  well  since  the  day  he  first  came 
To  Tappan  Zee,  in  the  old  Pioneer, 
Though  every  day  he  was  growing  more  dear ; 
And,  casting  her  sweetest  smile  in  his  face, 
And  taking  his  gun  with  a  winning  grace, 
And  laying  it  up  in  its  usual  place 
On  the  hickory  hooks  of  a  beam  overhead, 
As  one  might  have  put  an  infant  to  bed, 
Then,  taking  his  pouch  of  partridge  and  quail, 
And  praising  the  marksman  that  could  not  fail, 
And  patting  dog  Rover,  who  wagged  his  tail 
And  put  out  his  paw,  as  if  with  intent 
To  acknowledge  the  flattering  compliment, 
She  acted  a  scene  of  life  every  day : 
For  Anneke  acted,  as  one  might  say, 
The  happy  wife  in  a  natural  way. 

The  worm  at  her  liver,  of  course,  she  knew  ; 
As  well  as  the  Spartan  boy  in  the  story 
Knew  the  fox  was  tearing  his  insides  out,  — 
A  test  of  his  pluck  decidedly  gory, 
And  proof  that  theft  may  be  covered  with  glory. 

Fierce  jealousy  gnawed  at  her  heart,  't  is  true  ; 
But,  holding  it  in  with  a  courage  stout, 
She  gave  it  no  loop-hole  of  word  or  pout 
By  which  to  escape  to  her  husband's  ears, 
And  never  allowed  him  to  see  the  tears 
Which  over  and  over  again  she  shed 
Because  his  heart  was  the  throne  of  the  dead, 


COMPANY.  163 

Instead  of  the  living  wife  he  had  wed  ; 

For  wisely  she  thought,  by  holding  its  breath, 

To  smother  the  green-eyed  monster  to  death. 


COMPANY. 

THE  day  had  come  round  for  their  "  company  ;  " 
That  is,  for  friends  and  acquaintances  near 
To  come,  in  their  turn  of  neighborly  cheer, 
And  take  a  warm,  sociable  cup  of  tea,  — 
A  Dutch  custom  held  by  their  children  dear. 
And  Tea  meant  coffee  and  cider  and  beer, 
Roast    turkey   and    goose,   broiled    chicken    and 

game, 

Some  cold,  and  some  smoking  hot  from  the  flame, 
Hot  muffins  and  short-cake,  waffles  and  sweets, 
To  mix  with  or  follow  the  savory  meats ; 
And  olekokes,  krullers,  and  such  boiled  cake  ; 
With  mince-pies  and  custards  close  in  their  wake  ; 
And,  hindmost  of  all,  the  jellies  and  jam  ; 
And  all  things  real,  and  never  a  sham, 
From  welcomes  at  first  to  the  last  good-by ! 
They  parted  without  a  drop  in  their  eye, 
Or  waste  of  sweetness  in  kisses  and  sighs, 
Or  one  of  our  modern  Frenchified  lies. 

Such,  whilom,  the  social  gathering 
Which  white-haired  Winter  was  certain  to  bring 


164  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

From  house  to  house,  in  the  friendly  old  time, 
To  keep  the  heart  warm  in  the  icy  clime, 
What  time  he  began  to  drive,  blustering,  round, 
Or  came  on  swift  runners  with  muffled  sound  ; 
Or  sat  at  his  loom  in  the  snow-lined  cloud, 
On  lengthening  nights,  to  weave  a  white  shroud 
To  cover  the  stiffened  and  stark  cold  ground  ; 
When  plow,  field,  and  farm  were  weather-bound, 
And  held  in  the  rigid  grasp  of  his  hands 
As  stiff  as  if  grappled  by  iron  bands  ; 
And  farmers  were  kept,  by  his  stern  commands, 
From  daring  to  touch  a  field  of  their  lands. 
They  met  in  this  way,  and  conspired  together 
To  laugh  in  the  face  of  his  threatening  weather  ; 
And,  casting  the  shadows  of  care  behind, 
They  jingled  bells  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind, 
And  mocked  the  old  blower  with  joke  and  song 
While  cantering,  trotting,  and  gliding  along. 
And  now  they  were  gliding  with  merry  sound, 
And  jingling  their  bells,  o'er  smooth,  snowy  ground. 
To  give  Rip  his  turn  in  the  festive  round. 

And  Rip  and  fair  Anneke,  hand  in  hand, 
Were  getting  ready  the  fat  of  the  land  ; 
That  she  the  good  lady,  and  he  the  lord, 
Might  honor  their  guests  at  the  festive  board  ; 
And  Caesar,  unctuous  and  shiny  as  fat, 
And  ready  at  work  whate'er  he  was  at, 
For  master  or  mistress,  in  doors  or  out, 


COMPANY.  165 

As  strong  as  a  crowbar,  nimble  and  stout, 
And  happy  as  nimble,  went  whistling  about, 
Preparing  for  quadruped-guests  a  stall, 
And  shelter  and  beds  and  supper  for  all. 

The  sun  had  been  in  the  sulks  the  whole  day, 
Because  of  some  storm-clouds  crossing  his  way, 
And  sullenly  kept  himself  out  of  sight ; 
And  went  to  bed  early  that  afternoon, 
With  scarcely  a  smile  as  he  sank  to  rest 
On  his  regal  couch  in  the  purple  west, 
And  saying  aloud  to  himself,  "  I  'm  blest 
If  Rip  and  the  earth  dont  take  it  to-night !  " 

But  Caesar  predicted  an  evening  bright, 
Because,  as  he  said,  "  the  light  of  the  moon 
And  stars  on  the  snow  would  make  it  as  light 
As  daylight,  unless  it  should  storm  quite  soon." 
This  said  while  plucking  the  feathery  game, 
And  shining  before  the  bright  kitchen-flame, 
Where  Mistress  Anneke  frequently  came 
Without  the  least  blush,  or  a  sense  of  shame  ! 
For  time  had  not  come  for  a  lady  to  boast 
She  didn't  know  beans  from  butter  and  toast, 
Nor  a  bit  of  a  broil  from  a  piece  of  roast, 
Nor  a  chicken  well  dressed  from  a  chicken's  ghost. 
The  time  was  n't  yet  for  accomplished  spouse 
To  know  just  nothing  about  keeping  house  ; 
When  mammas,  to  make  their  daughters  complete, 
As  Nature  intended,  for  man's  helpmeet, 


166  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Must  dress  them  like  dolls  from  their  head  to  feet, 

And  teach  them  the  art  of  simpering  sweet, 

And  how  to  preserve  their  dear  hands  from  soiling. 

In  those  vulgar  days,  the  men  had  to  eat, 
And  women  to  help  them  by  sometimes  broiling, 
And  sometimes  roasting  and  stewing  and  boiling ; 
Nor  was  it  an  honor  to  shirk  from  toiling, 
Nor  shameful  to  keep  the  dinner  from  spoiling. 
In  short,  in  those  days,  the  best  sort  of  spouse 
Was  one  who  always  looked  well  to  her  house 
And  husband  and  children,  that  kind  of  thino- : 

'  O     3 

Who  knew  as  well  how  to  work  as  to  sing, 
Could  tell  a  sheep's  leg  from  a  woodcock's  wing, 
And  never  was  finished  until  she  knew 
Roast-beef  from  a  regular  family  stew. 

And  dumpy,  fair  Anneke,  in  those  days 
Of  piping  hot  suppers  and  tea  and  dinner, 

And  all  things  in  that  connection, 
Stood  foremost  of  all  in  the  neighbors'  praise ; 
And  barring  her  tongue  was  sometimes  a  sinner, 

Was  almost  up  to  perfection. 
And  well  the  dexterous  Anneke  knew 
The  gastric  gate  of  the  savory  art 
Stands  close  at  the  head  of  the  avenue 
That  leads  from  the  stomach  up  to  the  heart !  — 
That  she  who  her  husband's  love  would  retain, 
And  she  who  her  husband's  lost  love  would  gain, 
To  keep  forever  in  sunshine  or  rain, 


COMPANY.  167 

Be  he  a  saint  or  sinner, 
May  try  as  she  may,  and  will  try  in  vain, 

If  she  neglect  his  dinner. 
And  half  the  family  quarrels  that  come, 
To  drive  a  regular  man  from  his  home, 

On  Discord's  jarring  wheels,  — 
As  well  as  dyspepsia  and  heart-disease, 
Free-love,  and  that  kind  of  affinities, 
And  cheap  divorce  any  time  you  may  please, 
And  similar  evils  that  shock  or  tease,  — 

Come  from  irregular  meals, 
Not  always  the  fault  of  the  scolded  cooks. 
And  half  of  the  sour  words  that  are  said, 
And  more  than  one  half  of  all  sour  looks, 

Proceed  from  sour  bread. 

But  Anneke's  bread  was  sweet,  not  sour  ; 
And  Anneke's  meals  were  true  to  the  hour  ; 
And  Anneke  therefore  wielded  a  power 

That  reached  to  her  husband's  heart ! 
She,  little  by  little,  began  to  trace 
Her  way  to  that  most  desirable  place 
By  aid  of  the  above-mentioned  gastric  grace, 
And  nature  in  constant  bloom  on  her  face, 

And  also  the  aid  of  art. 
And  so,  when  the  "  company  "  came  together 
That  stinging  and  biting  mid-winter  weather, 
Of  course  not  to  sting  and  to  bite  their  neighbors,  — 


168  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

For  visitors  never  do  that,  — 
While  they  were  all  talking  of  plans  and  labors, 

In  regular  tea-drinking  chat, 
In  the  old-fashioned  way  that  they  used  to  do  it 
In  forefathers'  days,  on  old  Tappan  Zee, 
Fair  Anneke  dropped  in  each  cup  of  tea 
A  mixture  or  charm,  when  nobody  knew  it, 
Which  acts  like  a  touch  of  the  blarney-stone  ! 
And  presently  every  one's  tongue  began, 
With  honey-bee  hum,  in  the  Warmest  tone, 
To  speak  in  the  praise  of  fair  Anneke. 
One  after  another  they  raced  and  ran 

For  words  to  convey  their  pleasure 
That  Anneke  had  so  noble  a  man, 

And  Rip  had  so  great  a  treasure  I  — 
That  never  was  cottage  or  house  more  neat ; 
And  never  was  housewife  looking  more  sweet ; 
And  never  had  company  better  treat ; 
And  never  was  tenderer,  juicier  meat ; 
Nor  better-baked  biscuit,  from  whiter  wheat ; 
Nor  any  thing  else,  than  they  had  to  eat, 
(Then  took  a  little  more  tea.) 
And  never  did  fire-place  give  better  heat, 
To  warm  the  whole  body,  from  head  to  feet, 
Wherever  one  happened  to  place  his  seat : 
There  could  n't  be  built  a  jollier  fire  ; 
The  back-logs  and  fore-sticks,  and  all  between, 
Were  piled, —  they  could  n't  be  piled  any  higher. 


COMPANY.  169 

A  cheerfuller  fire  they  never  had  seen, 

And  never  expected  to  see  ! 
And  thus  they  continued,  as  they  began, 

Still  harping  on  Anneke  ; 
Till,  blushing,  she  whispered  to  Rip,  good  man, 
To  stop  those  folks,  or  they  'd  praise  her  to  death. 
But  still  their  tongues  blarnily  raced  and  ran 
As  long  as  they  had  a  remnant  of  breath, 

Then  took  "  a  little  more  tea," 
And  on  again,  with  a  galloping  sound  ; 
So  that,  when  the  apples  and  nuts  came  round, 
The  apples  and  nuts  were  additional  ground 

For  praising  sweet  Anneke  ! 

Then  Rip  began  to  think  he  'd  found 

A  pearl  on  old  Tappan  Zee 

(For  pearls  in  the  ancient  Zee  abound) 

Which  he  had  failed  to  prize, 
And  that  his  friends  knew  more  its  worth 

Than  he  ;  for  they  were  wise. 
So  well  the  tongues  of  festive  mirth 
Had  harped  and  sung  —  the  precious  dears  — 
To  praise  the  jewel  he  had  on  earth, 

He  thought  not  of  the  skies. 
And  so,  from  opening  first  his  ears, 

He  opened  now  his  eyes  ; 
And  Anneke  ne'er  had  looked  so  fair, 
So  like  a  costly  jewel  rare, 


170  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

In  her  good  husband's  charmed  sight, 
As  when  the  sleigh-bells  on  the  air 
Rang  out  and  died,  at  twelve  that  night. 

And  thus  it  was  that  "  company  " 

And  Anneke's  gentle  art, 
And  regular  dinners,  time,  and  tea, 

Healed  Rip  Van  Bigham's  heart. 
And  Anneke  found,  when  Spring  came  round 
And  snow  had  left  the  frozen  ground 

With  Winter's  dismal  weather, 
The  puzzle  which  she  oft  had  tried, 
With  thread  and  needle  plied  and  plied, 
And  stamped  her  foot  and  groaned  and  sighed, 
And  sometimes  swore,  and  often  cried, 

At  last  was  sewn  together ! 


XV. 

REVIVAL. 

TIME,  like  an  eagle  with  young  on  her  wing, 
Comes  flying,  and  bearing  her  fledgling,  Spring ; 
And  drops  her,  amid  the  sunshine  and  damp, 
On  southern  slopes  of  a  forest-fringed  swamp  ; 
Thence,  chirping,  and  hopping  from  bog  to  bog, 
Though  sometimes  half  frozen  with  cold  and  fog, 
But  still  growing  stronger  from  day  to  day, 
By  little  and  little  she  feels  her  way, 


REVIVAL.  171 

By  following  the  sunbeams,  till  she  is  found 

On  green  sheltered  spots  of  the  upland  ground. 

Thence,  skipping  from  place  to  place  around, 

But  timidly,  wary,  and  slow  at  first, 

She  comes  where  the  crocus  begins  to  burst 

From  soft,  lowly  graves,  and  snowy,  white  shroud, 

Like  Lazarus  at  the  voice  of  his  God. 

We  soon  find  the  welcome  prints  of  her  feet 

Where  soft-breathing  meadows  and  forests  meet ; 

Then  still  higher  up,  among  fields  of  wheat ; 

And  away  among  nooks  of  emerald  green, 

Where  Winter,  half  melted  with  heat,  is  seen 

Repairing  his  broken  chariot-wheels, 

And  scowling  at  Spring  for  chasing  his  heels ; 

And  where  the  old  tyrant  will  come  again, 

With  forces  of  drizzle  and  sleet  and  rain, 

To  fight  for  the  mastery  of  the  clime, 

And  bind  the  timorous  Spring  for  a  time. 

But  she,  still  smiling,  though  half  in  tears, 

With  sunbeams  armed  the  fight  will  renew, 

And  with  her  myriad  emerald  spears 

Will  riddle  his  white-mailed  armor  through, 

And  chase  his  fierce, blustering  allies  off: 

Then  all  his  morsels  of  cold  will  be  spent ; 

And  then  the  old  tyrant  his  crown  must  doff, 

And  his  robes,  in  the  fervid  firmament. 


172  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Now  Sparkle  Creek  throws  off  his  chain, 

And  laughs  and  trips  away 
Like  boy  long  held  by  books  or  rain 

Let  loose  for  a  holiday. 

And  now  and  then  a  pioneer  bird 

Comes,  like  a  spy,  alone  ; 
Then  flies  away  with  joyous  word 

That  winter  months  have  gone. 

The  blue-birds  seek  the  hollow  stump, 
And  find  their  last  year's  nest ; 

And  Phoebe-birds  come,  with  a  jump, 
From  their  long  winter's  rest. 

The  little  chippy  hops  around, 

Without  a  bit  of  fear, 
Where'er  a  seed  or  crumb  is  found, 

Just  as  he  did  last  year. 

Children,  with  faces  all  aglow, 
Bring  wild-flowers  from  the  wood  : 

They  've  heard  the  robins  !  and  they  know 
That  Spring  has  come  for  good  ! 


A  SONG    OF  SPEING.  173 


A  SONG  OF  SPRING. 

THEN  sing  all  men,  and  take  a  part, 
With  happy  hearts  and  voices  ; 

Let  none  be  silent  while  the  heart 
Of  Nature  so  rejoices. 

Let  grateful  lips  find  joyous  words ! 

For  all  the  air  is  ringing 
With  joyous  songs  of  happy  birds, 

Arid  happy  streamlets  singing. 

The  Earth,  now  rid  of  Winter's  crew, 

And  torn  from  his  embraces, 
Is  spreading  out  her  carpet  new 

For  wood-nymphs  and  the  Graces. 

The  Spring  goes  forth,  though  coy  and  shy 

And  blushing  like  a  maiden, 
To  oifer  incense  to  the  sky, 

With  flowers  and  leaflets  laden. 

The  shivering  forests,  stripped  and  bare, 
Through  all  the  winter  sighing, 

That  stood  so  stark  in  the  icy  air, 
And  groaned  like  mortals  dying,  — 


174  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Appear  again  in  mantles  bright, 
Flung  o'er  their  shrivelled  features, 

And  stretch  their  arms  to  catch  the  light, 
Feeling  like  new-born  creatures. 

Murmuring  their  thanks,  the  rustling  trees 
Put  on  their  green  spring  dresses ; 

While  zephyrs  kiss  the  laughing  leaves 
With  tenderest  caresses. 

The  bees  have  left  their  empty  hive 

To  work  among  the  daisies  ; 
Glad  for  the  chance  to  work  and  thrive, 

They  hum  their  grateful  praises. 

The  spring-peeps,  in  their  swampy  home, 
Prophetic  pipe  their  voices  ; 

Foretelling  plenteous  time  to  come  : 
And  the  farmer's  heart  rejoices. 

The  plough-boy  sings,  across  the  fields, 
Driving  old  Buck  and  Berry  ; 

Their  hardy  necks  the  oxen  yield, 
Patient  as  he  is  merry. 

The  sower  sows,  and  soon  the  seeds, 

Into  a  harvest  growing, 
Will  teach  him  that  all  human  deeds 

Are  but  the  seeds  we  're  sowing. 


RESURRECTION.  175 

And  seeds  long  buried  now  arise, 

A  resurrection  vernal ; 
As  man  shall  rise,  though  first  he  dies, 

To  live  a  life  eternal. 

Then  sing  all  men,  and  take  a  part, 

With  happy  hearts  and  voices ; 
Let  none  be  silent  while  the  heart 

Of  Nature  so  rejoices. 


RIP  joined  the  universal  song, 
Glad  that  the  Spring  had  come  again, 
With  flowers  and  music  in  her  train ; 
And  thanks  to  Him,  to  whom  belong 
All  thanks,  he  gave,  as  good  men  should. 
His  barns  were  full,  his  oxen  strong, 
His  wood-house  filled  with  seasoning  wood  ; 
His  cows  and  sheep  rejoiced  with  young ; 
And  as  he  drove  his  team  afield 
His  heart  made  music  with  his  tongue, 
Hoping  for  what  the  ground  could  yield. 
For  Love  has  dreams,  and  Hope  has  eyes ; 
And  when  he  saw  the  flowers  arise, 
And  grain,  long  buried  in  the  earth, 
From  womb  of  graves  with  glorious  birth, 
His  thoughts  flew  upward  to  the  skies, 


176  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  backward  far  across  the  sea, 

And  forward  to  the  glad  surprise 

Of  life  from  death,  foretold  to  be, 

When  his  sweet  flower  should  leave  its  tomb, 

And  in  immortal  beauty  bloom. 

Though  happier  now  than  he  had  been 

Since  Death  first  robbed  him  of  Katrine, 

Yet  her  dear  face  oft  comes  between 

Him  and  the  bustling  Anneke  ; 

And  fancy  paints  what  she  shall  be 

When  blooming  in  eternity. 

Go  where  he  may,  do  what  he  will, 

Her  gentle  face  is  with  him  still. 

She  draws  him  to  the  cherry-tree, 

Not  now  to  weep  there,  but  to  sing 

As  he  beholds  its  blossoming, 

And  thinks  of  the  eternal  Spring ; 

For  love  and  hope  look  far  away 

Beyond  the  night  to  find  the  day ; 

Beyond  the  winter  of  the  tomb 

They  look  for  Spring  when  Spring  shall  come 

Arrayed  in  everlasting  bloom. 

Nor  is  it  strange  that  thoughts  like  these 

Should  float  before  Van  Bigham's  eyes, 

'Mid  fresh-born  flowers  and  new-robed  trees, 

Which  teach  us  that  the  dead  shall  rise ; 

Nor  that  the  evening  twilight  hours 

Should  find  him  sitting,  musingly, 


A    VISION.  177 

Beneath  Katrina's  cherry-tree, 

Now  blossoming  with  bridal  flowers, 

As  she  was  dressed  that  long-passed  day, 

Like  these,  alas !  to  fade  away. 

Beside,  'twas  time  to  hear  once  more 

From  fatherland's  too  distant  shore. 

We  long  to  hear,  what  yet  we  dread,  — 

The  last  words  of  the  loved  and  dead. 

Rip  longed  to  hear  those  words  from  her. 

Long  months  had  passed  since  the  Rollicker 

Had  left  Manhattan  Isle,  to  trace 

Her  path  o'er  Ocean's  wrinkled  face  ; 

And  now  't  was  time  for  her  return, 

For  which  he  looked  from  day  to  day, 

With  fever  of  the  heart,  to  learn 

What  prayers  were  on  her  dying  breath, 

And  mournful  items  of  her  death, 

Till  then  kept  back  by  strange  delay. 

This  brought  her  image  back  again, 

In  thoughts  by  day,  in  dreams  by  night ; 

But  more  in  pleasure  than  in  pain, 

And  less  in  darkness  than  in  light. 


A  VISION. 

WHILE  musing  thus,  one  twilight  hour, 
Beneath  her  blooming  cherry-tree, 
12 


178  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

A  chaise  with  two  passed  hurriedly. 
Was  it  a  dream,  or  fancy's  power, 
That  brought  her  image  to  his  eye  ? 
Was  that  Katrine  ?     It  could  not  be : 
It  was  ;  and  yet  it  was  not  she. 
Her  gentle  look,  that  same  sweet  face, 
Made  up  of  every  heavenly  grace  !  — 
But  she  was  dead :  and  Ocean's  wave 
Stretched  far  between  him  and  her  grave. 
And  yet  that  vision  flitting  by,  — 
If  she  had  dropped  down  from  the  sky, 
And  stood  before  him,  eye  to  eye, 
She  had  not  looked  more  like  Katrine 
Than  that  sweet  face  he  just  had  seen  ! 

The  chaise  had  passed,  —  he  sat  alone  ! 
But  not  that  face  and  form  were  gone. 
He  seemed  to  be  in  some  bright  dream, 
Floating  again  down  Life's  swift  stream, 
With  all  his  early  hopes  and  fears, 
With  all  his  love  and  joys  and  tears. 
He  saw  Van  Dam,  he  heard  his  voice  — 
Brave  Captain  of  the  Rolllcker  — 
Bidding  him  calmly  to  rejoice  ; 
For  he  had  news  to  tell  of  her  ! 

He  heard  no  more  :  but  when  he  woke 
There  stood  Van  Dam  as  when  he  spoke 
The  words  that  brought  the  sudden  night. 


A    VISION.  179 

Was  it  then  not  a  dream  of  light  ? 
There  was  his  friend,  whom  he  had  seen 
Within  the  chaise,  with  his  Katrine, — 
Kind  Captain  of  the  Rollicker,  — 
And  he  had  heard  him  speak  of  her. 

Could  it  he  real  ?  had  he  seen 

His  dead,  his  own  beloved  Katrine  ? 

He  closed  his  eyes  ;  —  how  strange  was  this  ! 

Could  this  be  his  immortal  bliss  ? 

Had  time  thus  borne  him  on  its  wing, 

So  soon,  to  the  Eternal  Spring  ? 

But  no !  there  stood  his  friend,  Van  Dam, 

With  those  old  words,  "  Good  Rip,  be  calm  !  " 

He  saw  his  face,  he  heard  his  voice, 

That  bade  him  calmly  to  rejoice, 

For  he  had  done  his  errand  now  I 

What  was  that  beaming  on  his  brow  ? 

Was  it  a  halo  circling  there  ? 

Did  he  a  crown  of  glory  wear  ? 

The  unreal  did  the  real  seem, 

If  't  were  a  dream,  or  not  a  dream. 

The  words  seemed  floating  from  Van  Dam, 

Who  stood  with  glory  round  his  brow,  — 

"  Good  Rip  !  I've  done  my  errand  now  ! 

I  've  brought  her  !  but,  good  Rip,  be  calm  ! 

Good  Rip,  I  've  brought  the  dead  to  life ! 

She  lives !  and  you  shall  see  your  wife/' 


180  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Then  silence  came  ;  and  clouds,  once  more, 

And  then  the  vision  as  before  ; 

And  then  the  face  of  Anneke, 

With  wonder  and  perplexity. 

He  would  be  calm,  and  held  his  breath, 

To  think  if  this  were  life,  or  death  ; 

A  dream,  a  vision  of  delight, 

Or  fairies,  working  spells,  by  night. 

It  was  no  dream.     Van  Dam  was  there, 

Beside  him  in  the  evening  air  ; 

And  with  him  anxious  Anneke, 

Beneath  Katrina's  cherry-tree. 

He  listened  to  his  voice  again, 

As  if  it  were  an  angel  strain : 

"  Good  Rip !  I  have  a  yarn  to  spin 

When  you  have  strength  to  hear  it,  friend, 

From  the  beginning  to  the  end. 

Katrine  is  at  the  village  inn ! 

I  find  't  is  kept  by  Buckhout  now, 

And  Anneke,  my  niece,  the  vrouw 

Of  poor  Van  Horn,  is  spliced,  somehow, 

To  —  well,  I  know  it  all,  old  boy  ! 

So  take  my  hand !  I  wish  you  joy  !  " 

He  waited ;  but  Rip  answered  not ; 
Bewildered,  dumb,  chained  to  the  spot, 
With  blank  amazement  stupefied, 


A   VISION.  181 

He  merely  moved  his  lips  and  sighed  ; 
Then  seemed  to  think  he  had  replied. 

Van  Dam  still  held  him  by  the  hand. 

"  Stand  up  !  "  he  said,  "  we  '11  soon  see  land  ! 

Come,  shipmate  !  courage  !  be  a  man  ! 

Are  you  in  heaven,  or  in  Tappan  ?  " 

"  In  heaven,"  said  Rip,  "  if  I  have  seen 

The  blessed  face  of  my  Katrine  ! 

She  passed  here,  and  I  saw  her  face  ; 

And  you  were  with  her  in  the  chaise." 

"  All  right,  good  Rip,  the  very  thing  ! 

You  see,  I  lost  my  reckoning, 

Not  knowing  these  land  soundings  well. 

I  was  to  hail  you  first,  and  tell 

My  yarn,  before  you  saw  her  face, 

And  set  you  trim,  with  stay  and  brace. 

All  right,  now !  Come,  if  you  are  steady  ; 

Katrine  is  crank,  but  brave  and  ready  ; 

If  you  're  as  staunch  as  she,  you  '11  weather 

This  little  storm,  with  ease,  together." 

Doubting  if  things  were  what  they  seemed, 
Awake  and  yet  afraid  he  dreamed,  — 
For  Rip  had  dreamed  like  this  before, 
Only  his  dreams  gave  no  surprise, 
That  she  long  dead  should  live  once  more, 
And  act  and  move  before  his  eyes,  — 


182  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Half  stunned,  and  half  unconscious,  he 
Followed  Van  Dam  mechanically  ; 
Like  dreamer  walking  in  his  sleep, 
Who  safely  treads  some  giddy  steep, 
Where  one  false  step,  or  hasty  breath, 
Might  plunge  him  to  the  gulf  of  death. 

They  met,  gazed  in  each  other's  face 

And  in  each  other's  arms  were  grasped, 

In  one,  long,  breathless  love-embrace  ; 

Their  very  souls  together  clasped. 

The  twain  were  one  ;  —  heart  grown  to  heart, 

Flesh  grown  to  flesh,  and  bone  to  bone  ; 

Each  of  the  other  vital  part, 

Two  beings  swallowed  up  in  one . 

They  did  not  speak,  they  could  not  speak ; 

And  good  Van  Dam  stood  silent  by, 

Stout  sailor  as  he  was,  as  weak 

As  they.  —  a  child  with  tearful  eye, 

And  quivering   lip,  and  sobbing  sigh,  — 

While  Rip  received  his  dead  to  life  ; 

And  she,  his  patient,  faithful  wife, 

Received,  that  hour,  reward  for  years 

Of  painful  waiting,  wracking  fears. 

Their  swelling  hearts  have  scarcely  power 

For  joys  that  crowd  in  that  brief  hour  ; 

And  dumb  with  ecstacy,  they  seem 

Entranced  with  love  like  them  that  dream. 


TEE   CAPTAIN'S    TARN.  183 


THE   CAPTAIN'S  YARN. 

"  You  see  they  thought  Katrine  was  dead, 

And  signalled,  with  the  winding-sheet, 

From  Barthold's  house-top,  as  they  said 

They  would  while  off  and  on  I  beat, 

That  morning,  waiting  for  the  sign  ; 

And  so,  instead  of  fetching  your  Katrine, 

I  had  to  bring  the  news,  that  broke 

Your  heart,  with  every  word  I  spoke. 

But,  Rip !  you  see  she  did  not  die  ; 

Or  if  she  did  she  came  to  life 

Again,  because  she  was  your  wife  ; 

And  no  one  told  a  willing  lie, 

Save  Death  himself,  who  played  the  sham. 

In  my  next  trip  to  Amsterdam 

They  told  me  how  they  'd  been  deceived, 

And  thought  her  dead  while  yet  she  lived. 

She  almost  made  that  voyage.     Tossed 

For  a  time  upon  the  unknown  sea, 

Her  brave,  good  bark,  at  length,  had  crossed, 

And  made  for  port.     But  just  as  she 

Was  casting  anchor,  suddenly 

Her  sails  were  struck  aback,  and  bore 

Her  homeward,  to  her  native  shore. 

I  hailed  her  heartily  ;  and  I  said, 

4  Is  this  Katrine  whom  I  left  dead  ?  ' 


184  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  then  I  told  her  how  her  death 

Had  stunned  you,  took  away  your  breath. 

Poor  thing  !  I  should  n't  have  told  her  that ! 

It  liked  to  've  killed  her,  knocked  her  flat  ; 

As  if  a  squall  had  struck  her  square, 

And  swamped  her  ;  with  me  standing  there  ; 

Me,  —  Captain  of  the  Rollicker  ! 

Feeling  as  if  I  'd  murdered  her. 

She  righted  soon ;  and  then  Barthold, 

Her  father,  spun  his  yarn,  and  told 

How  they  had  thought  her  dead,  and  made 

Her  shroud,  at  last ;  and  even  laid 

Her  out.     But  there  their  hands  were  stayed. 

They  saw  her  coming  back  from  heaven  ; 

And  then  they  knew  she  had  been  given, 

A  second  time,  to  them  and  you. 

Then  how  they  wished  you  only  knew 

That  she  had  risen  from  the  dead ! 

But  ships  were  coming  in,  instead 

Of  leaving,  when  they  wished  to  send 

The  hurried  word,  by  mail,  or  friend  ; 

And  when  a  chance  had  come,  alack ! 

The  war  with  England  drove  it  back  ; 

And  from  the  sea  the  swift-winged  word 

Flew  homeward,  like  a  frightened  bird, 

And  went  to  roost,  with  long  delay, 

Till  month  on  month  had  passed  away ; 

Though  every  moment  seemed  a  day. 


THE  FATHERS  LETTER.  185 

At  length  the  Eollicker  appeared,  - 
A  ship,  good  Rip,  that  never  feared 
An  Englishman,  nor  Neptune's  gale, 
Nor  any  craft  that  carries  sail. 
You  know,  good  Rip,  what  she  can  do  ! 
Well,  with  Katrine,  and  twenty  more, 
Safe-housed  aboard,  she  fairly  flew 
Across  the  waves,  from  shore  to  shore  ! 
Nine  knots  an  hour  were  in  her  wake, 
(I  think  for  your  Katrina's  sake  ;) 
And  the  whole  voyage  was  merely  sport. 
And  here  we  are,  all  hands  in  port ; 
With  news  and  letters,  and  Katrine 
As  safe  and  hearty  as  a  queen  !  " 

The  Captain's  yarn  was  not  more  strange  than  true, 
As  Barthold's  letters  showed,  in  tracing  through 
From  first  to  last,  the  sickness  of  Katrine,  — 
Her  seeming  death,  and  her  recovery, 
And  what  in  seeming  death  her  eyes  had  seen, 
And  ears  had  heard,  in  that  far  land  between 
Our  world  and  the  immortal  world  on  high. 
At  first,  when  Rip  had  parted  from  her  side, 
Tearing  himself  away  from  his  young  bride, 
While  yet  the  orange-blossoms  wreathed  her  brow, 
She  watched,  with  hope,  his  ship's  receding  prow. 
But  when  the  fame  of  the  great  storm  came  in, 
With  wild  reports  of  wrecks,  that  had  not  been, 


186  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Fear  chafed  her  anxious  heart  by  night  and  day, 
Till  weakened,  she  became  an  easy  prey 
To  slow,  consuming  fever,  which  remained, 
Smouldering  within,  in  spite  of  healing  art, 
That  cannot  reach  the  fever  of  the  heart. 
Thus  wasting  while  twelve  moons  had  waxed  and 

waned, 

With  hope  deferred,  they  closed  her  curtained  eyes, 
Supposing  she  had  passed  into  the  skies, 
Just  at  the  time  Rip's  messenger  had  come,  — 
Good  Rip  Van  Dam  —  to  bear  her  to  his  home. 
But  strange  to  say,  and  oh !  how  glad  to  say, 
That  night  of  death  had  turned  to  life's  sweet  day ! 
And  then  did  Barthold's  trembling  pen  relate 
The  mystery,  which  none  can  understand, 
Before  they  pass  beyond  death's  narrow  gate  ; 
What  she  had  seen  in  that  strange  border-land, 
'Twixt  earth  and  heaven  :  he  wrote  with  pious  hand. 

THE   TRANCE. 

WHILE   thus   in   seeming   death,  she   dreamed  a 

dream ; 

Or  passed  (she  knew  not  which)  the  gates  of  time  ; 
And  crossed  a  narrow,  dark  repulsive  stream ; 

Then  saw,  at  once,  a  most  resplendent  clime, 
Unvexed  by  human   groans,  unstained  by  sin  or 
crime. 


THE   TRANCE.  187 

High  up  she  saw  a  city,  on  a  mount, 

Too  glorious  to  behold  with  mortal  eyes  ; 

And  by  its  lower  gate  a  golden  fount 

Of  liquid  pearls,  —  the  tears  brought  to  the  skies 

From  broken  hearts  that  wept  for  sin,  with  mourn 
ful  cries. 

Beside  the  gate  she  stood,  and  saw  bright  troops 
Of  happy  spirits  coming  from  the  earth,  — 

The  care-worn  pilgrims,  changed  to  joyous  groups, 
Rejoicing  more  than  in  their  day  of  birth, 

Who  made  the  air  resound  with  songs  of  holy  mirth. 

From  that  high  place  the  earth  was  but  a  speck  ; 

And  all  this  life  a  short  and  troubled  dream ; 
Its    plans    and    schemes   were    but   a   worthless 
wreck,  — 

A  child's  lost  ship  upon  a  little  stream,  — 
So  small  did  this  great  world  unto  her  vision  seem. 

She  waited  for  her  turn  to  pass  within 

The    golden   gate,  that   breathed    forth   sweet 
perfume, 

Too  glad  she  had  escaped  the  world  of  sin ; 
And  glad  for  others,  who  from  darker  gloom 

Passed  by  her  to  receive  their  life's  immortal  bloom. 

She    saw  them    come    from    sickness,  pain,  and 
death ; 


188  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

t 

From  lonely  solitudes  of  homes  bereaved  ; 
From  tortured   beds  where   pangs  were   in   each 

breath ; 
From  hopes  deferred  which  early  shrouds  had 

weaved ; 

And  from   low   graves,  where  they  in  vain   had 
moaned  and  grieved. 

The  tired  pilgrim,  burdened  with  his  load ; 

The  war-scarred  soldier,  fresh  from  battles  won  ; 
As  on  they  toiled  up  the  ascending  road  ; 

The  racer  who  triumphantly  had  run ; 
And  faithful  servants  who  their  Master's  work  had 
done. 

And  many  a  child  she  saw  by  angels  borne,  — 
Their  little  faces  all  with  joy  aglow,  — 

Which,  just  before,  the  pangs  of  death  had  worn ; 
While  at  their  empty  cradles  far  below, 

The  mothers'  broken  hearts  were  bleeding  with  their 
woe. 

As  back  and  forth  the  angels  ever  flew, 

With   crowns    of  light,  on  swift   and   fragrant 

wings, 
And  saints  the  golden  gates  were  passing  through, 

She  saw  the  seats  where  joy  immortal  sings, 
And  caught  the  breath  of  flowers  which  youth  un 
dying  brings. 


THE   TRANCE.  189 

And  yet  she  stood  while  others  entered  there ; 

When  lo  !  a  voice,  like  music  of  a  bird, 
Said,   "Go,   my  child !    Go   back   to  earth   and 

care  ! 

Go  ;  do  ;  and  speak  the  gentle  act  and  word  ; 
To  show  the  sorrowing  ones  what  you  have  seen 
and  heard." 

Then  she   awoke.      From  heaven   to   earth   she 
came  ; 

Transformed  anew,  and  tried  as  gold  is  tried  ;  — 
Our  sweet  Katrine  ;  the  same,  yet  not  the  same, 

As  on  that  Sabbath  night  we  thought  she  died, 
Triumphant  in  the  risen,  glorious  Crucified. 

She  brought  to  earth  the  fragrance  of  the  skies  ; 

White  rose-leaves,  fresh  from  heaven,  were  on 

her  cheek ; 
A  sweet  soft  light  shone  in  her  loving  eyes  ; 

And  when  she  spake,  in  accents  low  and  meek, 
His  name,  we  thought  we  heard  an  angel  speak. 

From  her  fair  brow  the  glory  had  effaced 
Of  pain  and  sorrow  every  furrowed  line  ; 

And  none  but  angel-fingers  could  have  traced 
Those  lineaments  of  love  and  peace  divine, 

With  which  her  gentle  face,  henceforth,  will  ever 
shine. 


190  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

She  told,  by  slow  degrees,  the  strange  event ; 

And  bade  us  put  the  shroud  arid  mourning  by ; 
For  back  to  earth  her  spirit  had  been  sent ; 

And  she  should  live  she  knew,  and  should  not 

die, 

For  well  she  knew  such  heavenly  vision  could  not 
lie. 

Her  strength  came  back.     And  Hope,  with  joy 
ous  wing, 

Flew,  like  a  bird,  to  nestle  in  her  breast, 
And  all  day  long  prophetic  notes  did  sing, 

To  soothe  her  heart  and  make  it  truly  blest, 
And  did,  with  gentle  wing,  fan  her  to  healing  rest. 

As  Mozart's  daughter  sang  his  soul  to  heaven, 
Love  sang  her  heart  away  to  that  far  land, 

Where  her  twin-heart  with  poverty  had  striven 
To  build  their  home  ;  for  there  she  saw  him  stand, 

And  beckon  her  to  come,  with  joyous,  outstretched 
hand. 

For  him  the  voice,  in  her  ecstatic  trance, 
Had  bid  her  soul  return  to  earth  again, 

To  help  him  bear  its  toil,  and  seeming  chance, 
Its  burdens,  and  its  cares,  its  ills  and  pain, 

Who  for  her  sake  had  toiled,  and  should  not  toil  in 
vain. 


A   SNARL.  191 

New-born  to  us, —  a  gift  the  second  time,  — 
She  grew  in  strength,  and  with  a  soul  as  pure 

As  if  it  had  not  left  the  better  clime, 
Again  to  sin,  to  suffer,  and  endure, 

Which  in  our  mortal  state  of  all  things  are  most 
sure. 

As  birds  grow  restless  with  increasing  strength, 
And  feathering  out  too  large  for  their  old  nest, 

Stretch  forth  their  wings  and  fly  away,  at  length, 
So  she  now  longs  to  fly  and  be  at  rest 

On  Hudson's  bank,  on  her  beloved  husband's  breast. 

Receive  her  as  a  gift  the  second  time 

From  Heaven  and  us ;  as  we  ourselves  received 
Our  twice-born  daughter  from  the  holy  clime  ; 

And  may  your  heart,  at  last  from  woe  relieved, 
Rejoice  with  joy  more   than  with   sorrow  it  has 
grieved. 

XVI. 
A    SNARL. 

THE  grab-game  of  Fortune  is  funny  enough ; 
But  rather  unequal,  and  sometimes  rough, 
In  this  little,  tumbled-up  world  of  ours. 
A  few  catch  most  of  her  golden  showers, 
And  have  a  deal  more  than  they  ought  to  wish, 
Of  wife,  or  of  widows,  and  widow's  dowers, 


192  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  surfeit  on  many  a  dainty  dish ; 

While  many  get  merely  a  kick  and  cuff, 

And  find  the  whole  grab-game  terribly  tough,  — 

A  scuffle  and  scrabble  for  worthless  stuff. 

E'en  so  it  was,  in  this  case,  with  good  Rip  :  — 

When  women  were  scarce  and  in  great  demand, 

As  sometimes  they  are  in  a  new-settled  land, 

Dame  Fortune  gave  many  a  fellow  the  slip, 

Which  comes  in  "  betwixt  the  cup  and  the  lip," 

And  sent  him  a  jogging  along  through  life 

Without  the  supporting  prop  of  a  wife ; 

While  Rip,  lucky  man !  was  husband  to  two. 

And  this  at  a  time  of  general  want, 

At  least  when  wives  were  provokingly  scant, 

Because  the  country  was  new. 

The  rollicking  yonkers  all  thought  it  too  bad, 

Though  some  of  them  laughed  as  if  they  were  glad, 

That  Bigham  had  more  than  he  wished  he  had ; 

Like  him  with  the  elephant. 

Poor  Rip  was  perplexed,  and  he  scarcely  knew 

What  under  the  heavens,  on  earth  to  do. 

Supposing  one  wife  for  a  man  enough, 

He  feared  that  his  course  might  be  rather  rough 

By  undertaking  for  two. 

He  tried  to  guess  out  this  puzzle  of  fate, 

His  heart  in  a  fever,  his  brain  half  turned  ; 

But  the  more  he  studied  the  less  he  learned  ; 

Till,  finding  't  would  take  a  much  stronger  pate 

Than  his  to  decide  what  course  he  should  take, 


A   SNARL.  193 

He  sent  for  the  Dominie. 

He  begged  him,  at  once,  "  for  dear  mercy's  sake," 

To  come  alone,  at  as  rapid  a  rate 

As  in  his  power  the  journey  to  make, 

From  Tarrytown  over  the  Zee  ; 

For  he  felt  uneasy,  inside  and  out ; 

In  fact,  hardly  knew  what  he  was  about. 

Drawn  hither  and  thither,  this  way  and  that ; 

Loving  Katrine,  and  afraid  of  a  spat 

Whenever  he  showed  it ;  for  Anneke 

Had  vowed  she  'd  have  no  partiality. 

And  gentle  Katrina  was  meek  and  mild  ; 

As  good  as  could  be,  but  almost  as  wild 

At  the  strange  events,  and  the  stranger  state 

In  which  she  had  found  her  affairs  of  late. 

He,  married  to  one  as  much  as  the  other, 

Much  feared  he  'd  go  mad  with  the  puzzling  bother 

Like  the  ass  between  the  two  bundles  of  hay, 

In  equilibrium,  standing  at  bay, 

Unable  to  move  a  foot  either  way, 

And  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do  or  say. 

And  so  he  relied  on  the  Dominie 

To  come  if  he  would,  and  kindly  advise 

Whatever  the  course  of  duty  might  be. 

He  wished  to  see  with  the  Dominie's  eyes, 

The  way  that  was  right,  and  proper,  and  wise. 

The  Dominie  came,  as  a  Dominie  would, 
Whose  mind  was  intent  on  offices  good ; 

13 


194  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  barely  was  seated,  when  Anneke 

Made  him  a  glorious  cup  of  tea, 

With  lunch  of  sweet-smelling  savory  food. 

She  looked  like  a  full-blooming  rose  forlorn, 

When  dreadfully  done  for,  and  almost  torn 

Away  from  its  stem  ;  and  hanging  her  head, 

With  fresh  pendant  tears,  she  modestly  said, 

She  felt  she  was  in  the  place  of  the  dead, 

And  lying  alone  in  a  churchyard  bed, 

Much  more  than  she  felt  like  a  wife  just  wed. 

'T  was  he  who  had  tied,  and  he  must  untie 

The  marriage  knot,  if  he  thought  it  best ; 

But  she  would  be  hanged  !  —  she  meant,  she  'd  be 

blest, 

If  she  would  n't  much  rather  die  ! 
For  what  would  the  gossiping  yonkefs  say  ? 
And  how  they  would  crow,  especially  they 
Whom  she  had  provoked  by  giving  the  slip, 
And  jilted  them  all  by  marrying  Rip  I 
"  You  know,"  said  she,  "  how  the  slanderous  crew 
Got  the  plaguy  story  afloat,  somehow, 
That  I  charmed  Rip's  cider,  and  made  him  blue, 
Then  bound  him  with  the  connubial  vow, 
Before  he  got  sober  ;  which  is  not  true. 
And  who  would  consent  to  marry  me  now, 
If  known  to  have  been  unmarried  by  you  ; 
With  not  a  dollar  of  dower  in  view, 
And  neither  a  maid,  a  widow,  or  vrouw !  " 


THE  DOMINIE.  195 

Thus  Anneke  seized  on  the  Dominie's  heart 
By  her  tea  and  tears  and  feminine  art, 
And  muddled,  perhaps,  the  good  man's  head. 
Or,  it  may  be,  the  Dominie  was  afraid 
Of  his  crazy  wife,  who  appearing  to  know 
His  errand  again,  had  tauntingly  said  : 
"  Ah,  Dominie  !  did  n't  I  tell  you  so  ? 
You  know  I  did,  sir  !    Aha,  sir !  oh  ho ! 
I  tried  to  stop  you  from  going ;  but  no ! 
Off,  sir,  you  would  go,  and  marry  the  beauties, 
As  if  you  thought  it  the  choicest  of  duties 
To  cross  on  the  ice-drifts  o'er  Tappan  Zee, 
And  wade  through  snow  to  your  horse's  knee  ; 
But  /  told  you  plainly  how  it  would  be ; 
And  now  I  'm  glad  that  you  went,  for  you  see 
That  I  only  told  you  of  what  I  knew  ; 
For  what 's  a  dream  good  for  if  't  is  n't  true  ?  " 

The  Dominie  slipt  away  from  the  shrew, 
Her  words  still  hallooing,  "  Husband  ;  you  know, 
And  don't  you  deny  it !  I  told  you  so!" 

For  these,  or  some  other  reasons  like  these ; 
Or,  maybe,  the  Dominie  wished  to  please 
All  parties,  and  so  with  all  sides  agree,  — 
With  Rip,  with  Katrine,  and  with  Anneke,  — 
He  gave  an  answer  which  each  of  the  three 
Might  make  whatever  they  wished  it  to  be. 
The  chroniclers  state,  without  derision, 


196  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  words  of  the  Dominie's  wise  decision,  — 
"  Hip,  taking  the  whole  of  your  case  in  view,  — 
If  ever  man  lived  for  whom  it  would  do 
To  live  with  two  wives,  the  man,  sir,  is  you  !  " 

An  oracle  never,  with  words  more  wise, 
Bestowed  on  the  questioner  more  surprise 
Than  these  which  came  forth  from  the  smoking  shrine 
Of  the  Dominie's  theological  mine  ; 
And  never  was  mortal  less  satisfied 
To  whom  a  wise  oracle  had  replied. 

"  And  as  to  your  marrying  Anneke," 
Explained  the  astute,  smoking  Dominie, 
"  'T  was  done  of  course  unintentionally, 
Before  Katrina,  your  first  wife,  was  dead, 
And  therefore  to  both  you  're  rightfully  wed. 
Such  cases  as  yours  must  always  be  rare  ; 
But  some  of  the  patriarchs  had  a  pair, 
And  Isaac's  and  Jacob's  were  not  more  fair 
Than  Rip's  ;  and  though  they  brought  trouble  and 

care, 

And  though  't  was  in  the  original  plan 
That  one  wife  should  be  enough  for  a  man  ; 
(And  so  I  have  found  it  most  truly  to  be 
In  my  own  case,"  sighed  the  good  Dominie  ;) 
"  Yet  as  we  now  live,  in  some  sort,  the  way 
As  patriarchs  did  in  their  ancient  day,  — 
With  people  so  few,  and  our  country  new,  — 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE.  197 

If  ever  man  lived  for  whom  it  would  do 

To  live  with  two  wives,  the  man,  Rip,  is  you ; 

Since  you  are  rightfully  married  to  two." 

The  old  common  law  had  n't  much  to  say, 
But  winked  a  good  deal,  in  our  fathers'  day ; 
And  hence  when  the  Dominie  went  his  way 
He  knew  that  Rip  would  not  be  molested, 
But  live  on  quite  happy,  and  unarrested, 
With  twofold  share  of  connubial  bliss 
To  comfort  his  home  in  the  wilderness. 
But  other  folk's  homes,  like  other  folk's  hearts, 
Are  quite  covered  o'er ;  and  little  we  know 
Of  all  that  is  passing  within,  —  what  smarts, 
What  achings,  what  battles,  and  wounds,  and  woe  ! 

XVII. 
THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

OUR  shadows  will  follow  where'er  we  roam. 
Rip  sought  to  escape  low  spirits,  at  home, 
By  flying  to  those  of  the  Wayside  Inn. 
His  cabin  was  haunted  !    Such  wizard  din 
Was  never  yet  heard  since  Satan  and  Sin 
Their  progeny  foul,  of  accursed  birth, 
Let  loose  to  harass  and  to  vex  the  earth ! 
The  goblins  and  imps  were  everywhere  ; 
Ghosts  wandered  around  the  cabin  at  night, 
Strange  noises  were  heard  in  the  misty  air, 


198  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Supposed  to  be  witches  on  broomsticks  there  ; 
And  men,  who  were  gifted  with  second  sight, 
Saw  enough  to  chill  the  doughtiest  soul 
That  ever  yet  laughed  at  a  ghost  or  ghoul. 
In  our  more  civilized,  busier  day, 
When  the  din  of  life  keeps  witches  at  bay, 
We  scarce  can  conceive  of  their  fearful  sway, 
In  the  olden  time,  when  they  had  their  way. 

At  first  Rip  thought  that  the  yonkers,  at  nights, 
"Were  helping  the  witches.    Such  sounds  and  sights, 
Such  tricks  with  the  cattle,  horses,  and  sheep, 
And  harness,  and  ploughs,  while  he  was  asleep ; 
Such  cackling  of  fowls,  and  flying  of  geese,  — 
Then  always  the  signs  of  a  coming  breeze,  — 
Such  wars  of  the  bees,  in  the  fields  of  clover ; 
The  bars  let  down  'twixt  the  pasture  and  corn ; 
Such  fighting  of  cocks,  and  growling  of  Rover, 
As  soon  as  the  night  gave  place  to  the  morn ; 
And  jolly  old  Caesar's  ebony  face,  — 
Always  a  symbol  of  African  grace, 
And  smiling  with  joy  in  every  place,  — 
Now  turning  from  plastic  flesh  into  flint ; 
And  even  his  eyes  beginning  to  squint, 

By  looking  two  ways  at  once  ; 
So  that  from  being  a  merry,  smart  fellow, 

Poor  Caesar  became  a  dunce  ; 
And  from  a  jet-black  turned  black  mixed  with  yel 
low, 


THE   HAUNTED  HOUSE.  19S 

And  ripened  too  fast,  and  grew  very  mellow, 
By  too  much  of  village  inn, 
And  smelt  like  a  mixture  of  negro  and  gin  ; 
And  even  the  scarecrow,  ragged  and  torn, 
Would  come  from  its  place,  in  the  field  of  corn, 
Each  evening,  and  peer  through  the  window-pane  ; 
But  always  was  found  at '  ts  post  next  morn, 
As  sentinel,  guarding  the  sprouting  grain, 
And  stood  there  till  evening  set  in  again ; 
When  stalking  across  the  soft  furrowed  ground, 
Again  at  the  cabin  window  was  found. 

Not  even  the  household  waters  ran  smooth, 
On  which  sailed  the  tongue  of  fair  Anneke, 
Though  Rip  did  as  much  as  he  could  to  soothe, 
By  pouring  oil  on  the  rough,  troubled  sea, 
The  angry  waters  would  contrary  run, 
And  battered  away  the  old  fallacy, 
That  "  two  heads  are  better  than  one." 
And  Rip  discovered,  half  crazy  and  wroth, 
And  hungry  from  sun  to  sun, 
His  dinner  half  raw,  or  else  overdone, 
That  "  too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth." 
The  meal-hours  jumbled,  like  the  meal  itself, 
Were  very  uncertain,  and  came  pell-mell ; 
And  if  a  cold  rasher  were  left  on  the  shelf, 
It  vanished,  —  but  how,  nobody  could  tell ; 
So  that,  in  a  world  of  breadstuffs  and  meat, 
Poor  Rip  was  hungry,  with  nothing  to  eat. 


200  CftfE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  friend  of  his  leisure,  his  faithful  loom, 
The  gift  of  his  father,  from  fatherland, 
Had  covered  its  face  with  a  web  af  gloom ; 
And  palsied  and  still  was  its  busy  hand ; 
And  brooding  it  sat,  all  haggard  and  mangled, 
Like  victim  escaped  from  robbers,  half  strangled. 
The  warp-threads  and  woof,  though  perfectly  right, 
When  left  to  themselves  for  repose,  at  night, 
Next  morning  were  sure  to  be  snarled  and  tangled. 

And  so  with  Katrina's  good  spinning-wheel, 
And  distaff  and  yarn,  and  old-fashioned  reel ; 
However  they  worked,  with  orderly  care, 
When  under  the  eye  of  their  mistress  fair, 
If  she  turned  away,  in  a  moment  spare, 
For  walk  in  the  garden,  to  take  the  air, 
They  turned  the  whole  room  to  a  witch's  lair. 
Indeed  the  whole   house    had   passed   through  a 

change, 

And  every  thing  in  it  was  weird  and  strange ; 
For  the  very  kittens  had  ceased  to  play, 
And  changed  their  kitten-like  features, 
And  looked  like  infantile  tigers  at  bay, 
Or  dwarfed  old  grimalkins,  scarred  and  gray  ; 
And  growled,  and  quarrelled,  and  battled  all  day  ; 
And  hissed  out  and  swore  what  they  had  to  say, 
In  a  caterwauling,  blasphemous  way, 
Like  terrible  rampant  creatures. 


SOLACING   SPIRITS.  201 


SOLACING   SPIRITS. 

AT  length  Van  Bigham  was  driven  away, 
By  the  wicked  goblins  and  ghosts  and  witches, 
To  seek  for  solace  'mong  spirits  more  gay, 
Who  sing  and  seem  happy  even  in  ditches. 
Bewildered  he  was,  and  twisted  awry, 
And  now  and  then  had  a  drop  in  his  eye, 
And  tried  to  walk  with  his  feet  to  the  sky, 
So  great  was  his  distraction. 
Old  Ceesar,  his  man,  on  such  an  occasion, 
Persuaded  good  Rip,  who  needed  persuasion, 
To  not  go  home  to  the  cabin  that  night, 
But  sleep  at  the  village  inn. 
And  Caesar  chuckled  to  show  his  delight, 
And  danced  with  satisfaction, 
Because  his  kind  master  nodded  his  head, 
In  sign  that  he  wished  to  be  put  to  bed. 


PERHAPS  it  was  a  venial  sin 

For  sleepy  man,  as  Rip  had  been 

Through  weary  weeks  of  home-made  din, 

To  try  a  few  small  naps, 

After  his  tavern-tea  and  schnapps, 

In  Buckhout's  cosy  bed. 

He  felt  confused  about  the  head, 

His  eyelids  pressed  his  eyes  like  lead, 


202  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  Caesar  scarce  the  word  had  said 
Ere  he  was  fast  asleep. 
His  breathing  now  was  free  and  deep, 
Like  one  shut  off  from  care  and  trouble, 
To  whom  the  world  is  but  a  bubble, 
He  hardly  snored,  but  slept  and  slept, 
I  know  not  for  how  long  a  time  ; 
But  midnight  hours  had  softly  crept, 
And  muffled  men  had  stalked  on  crime, 
And  many  a  sick-bed  friend  had  wept, 
And  looked  on  death,  in  every  clime  ; 
When  suddenly  loud  shrieks  and  cries 
Arose,  and  roused  the  village  inn, 
Like  groans  of  a  dying  wretch,  who  dies 
With  an  unforgiven  sin. 

At  once  the  guests  sprang  out  of  bed, 
And  ran,  with  Buckhout  at  their  head, 
To  trace  the  groans,  and  bloody  deed 
From  which  such  groans  might  well  proceed, 
A  wizard  sight  they  saw ;  alack  ! 
Poor  Rip  Van  Bigham  on  his  back  ; 
His  brow  stone-cold,  his  pale  cheeks  wet, 
And  trailed  by  cold  and  clammy  sweat  ; 
His  fingers  clutched,  like  eagles'  claws  ; 
His  mouth  wide  open  with  fixed  jaws  ; 
His  eye-balls  glared  with  vacant  stare, 
And  stood  on  end  his  bristling  hair ; 


SOLACING  SPIRITS.  203 

In  short,  like  statue  of  Despair, 
And  still  and  motionless  as  dead, 
Was  Rip,  recumbent  in  the  bed. 

They  shook  him  ;  and  he  howled  a  howl, 
Like  shrieking  of  a  wounded  ghoul ! 
He  looked  about  with  frightened  stare, 
His  eyes  like  eyes  of  lobsters  stuck  out ; 
And  getting  sense,  he  cried,  u  O  Buckhout ! 
I  've  had  a  terrible  nightmare, 
Or  something  worse,  I  cannot  tell ; 
It  seemed  that  all  the  imps  from  hell 
Had  come  and  tried  to  pull  my  pluck  out. 
They  first  played  leap-frog  on  my  breast ! 
Jumped  up  and  down  !  staved  in  my  chest ; 
Then  thrust  their  hands,  and  felt  about, 
And  seized  my  pluck  to  pull  it  out ; 
The  moment  that  you  came  and  woke  me, 
Their  grinning  chief,  meanwhile,  to  joke  me, 
Was  asking  how  tliey  did  at  home  ; 
And  how  Pd  like  with  him  to  come, 
To  hear  the  everlasting  gong  ? 
And  said,  if  I  should  want  more  tongue, 
He  'd  send  me  one  up  from  below,  — 
A  forty-horse-power  tongue  to  go  ; 
But  if  I  could,  upon  the  whole, 
Get  on  alone  with  my  good  fight, 
Why,  then  he  'd  take  my  pluck  to-night, 
And  call  again  to  get  my  soul" 


204  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Then  jolly  old  Buckhout  laughed  outright, 
At  Rip's  queer  dream  and  ludicrous  plight ; 
Till  cramping,  he  laid  on  the  floor  to  roll. 
But  Rip  looked  solemn,  as  well  he  might ; 
For  how  could  he  comprehend 
The  nightmare's  warning,  and  hideous  sight, 
Of  demons  that  gave  him  such  a  fright ! 
Or  what  such  awful  dream  might  portend, 
Of  Satan  claiming  to  be  his  friend  ? 
Or  where  such  a  joke  might  end  ? 
And  this  made  Buckhout  only  laugh  more 
To  look  at  Rip's  solemn,  sober  face ; 
And  then  the  bystanders  following  pace, 
The  tavern  was  soon  in  a  wild  uproar, 
And  splitting  its  sides  with  laughter ; 
Which  the  imps,  from  rooms  and  halls  a  score, 
Threw  up  from  cellar  to  rafter. 

To  Rip,  still  nervous,  the  men  looked  grim, 
Undressed,  and  holding  their  candles  dim  ; 
For  seeing  things  yet  through  wizard  film, 
What  now  he  saw  and  what  in  his  dream 
Were  so  mixed  up,  in  the  mist  and  din, 
That  goblins  and  men  of  the  village  inn 
Seemed  like  the  mingling  waves  of  a  stream, 
On  the  edge  of  a  tumbling  cataract. 
And  goblins  and  men  and  devils  grim 
Seemed  all  to  have  joined  to  laugh  at  him, 
So  much  was  his  mind  distract. 


SOLACING  SPIRITS.  205 

And  though  awake  the  rest  of  the  night, 
The  grinning  goblins  were  still  in  sight, 
And  danced  and  tortured  him  with  affright, 
Till  morning  drove  them  off  with  its  light ; 
And  then  he  felt,  what  he  knew  before, 
That  tavern  spirits  torture  one  more 
Than  the  very  worst  spirits  at  home. 
He  found  that  witches  could  go  and  come, 
Not  one  of  them  could  he  leave  behind, 
No  more  than  if  't  were  part  of  his  mind  ; 
For  every  goblin,  nightmare,  and  elf 
Seemed,  like  his  thoughts,  a  part  of  himself, 
And  knew  his  secretest  heart's  intent, 
And  followed  him  wheresoe'er  he  went. 
Rip  therefore  pronounced  the  way  to  the  inn 
A  dangerous  road  to  travel ; 
That  the  imps  that  revelled  in  flip  and  gin, 
And  joined  in  the  roystering,  tavern  din, 
And  leered  from  the  bowl  with  sinister  grin, 
And  laughed  at  honest  men's  care  and  sin, 
Were  not  the  best  friends  to  help  him  unravel 
The  tangle  and  snarl  he  was  in. 
And  though  they  drowned  his  troubles  awhile, 
'T  was  done  in  such  Beelzebub  style 
As  added  to  their  fuel ; 

Which  showed  their  cunning  and  goblin  guile. 
The  way  they  pulled  at  his  pluck,  when  asleep, 
And  danced  on  his  chest,  with  laugh  and  leap, 


206  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Was  not  much  less  than  cruel. 

And  then  their  promise  to  come  again, 

To  lay  his  domestic  care  and  pain, 

And  every  family  squall, 

Because  his  name  was  upon  their  roll ; 

And  that  they  would  call  again  for  his  soul, 

He  did  not  like  it  at  all. 

But  still  he  found,  wherever  he  went, 
The  goblins  followed,  on  evil  bent ; 
Like  him  who  travelled  to  fly  from  care, 
But  found  it  close  to  him  everywhere,  — 
In  foreign  lands,  at  sea,  in  the  air,  — 
Wherever  Rip  went  the  imps  went  after, 
With  taunting  jibes,  and  half-smothered  laughter. 
At  home  or  away,  in  doors  or  out, 
Like  dogs  that  follow  their  master  about ; 
Alone  in  the  fields,  on  hill-side  or  meadow, 
They  stuck  to  his  heels  as  close  as  his  shadow. 
"  Aha !  "  they  whispered  among  the  trees, 
Where  they  were  brewing  a  midnight  breeze, 
"  Aha  !  here  comes  the  man  with  two  wives  ! 
How  happy  he  looks  ;  and  how  he  thrives  ! 
If  ever  man  lived  for  whom  't  would  do 
To  marry  two  wives,  and  live  with  two, 
Why  Rip  's  the  man  !  how  merry  he  is  ! 
With  double  cups  of  connubial  bliss, 
And  double  rows  of  connubial  jars, 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  207 

Brimful  of  jams  and  family  sweets  ; 

And  all  things  pleasant,  except  the  wars 

Uxorious,  which  the  goodman  meets  ! 

Aha  !  if  e'er,  in  any  land, 

Was  found  a  man  with  strength  to  stand 

A  pair  of  wives  at  his  command, 

Why,  here  's  the  very  case  at  hand ! 

The  keen-edged  Anneke  and  Katrine, 

A  pair  of  shears,  and  he  between ; 

A  jollier  mortal  ne'er  was  seen 

Since  jolly  days  of  patriarchs  ! 

His  wives  !     Oh  won't  they  leave  their  marks 

On  husband's  face  ;  and  claw  and  tear 

Each  other's  pretty  skin  and  hair  ! 

O  jolly  husband,  have  a  care  ! 

To-night,  to-night,  to-night,  beware  ! 

We  've  brewed  a  breeze  for  midnight  air, 

So  full  of  black-cat  squalls  and  scare, 

'T  will  lay  your  very  eye-balls  bare  !  " 


XVIII. 
QUALITY  AND  QUANTITY. 

A  WIFE  is  good ;  but  too  much  wife, 

Like  too  much  of  any  thing  good, 

Say  fire,  or  sweetmeats,  or  high-seasoned  food, 

May  mar  the  happiest  life. 


208  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

The  rattle  and  din  of  tongue-confusion, 
Of  hard-earned  savings  the  fast  diffusion, 
The  smoke  and  whiz  of  family  broils, 
The  smell  of  liver  or  tongue  when  it  spoils, 
And  homemade  pickles  and  peppers,  have  led 
Some  cynical  men  to  bless  their  stars 
That  they  have  not  been  pressed  in  these  wars  ! 
And  some  have  even  foolishly  said, 
Since  one  wife  is  sometimes  too  mcuny^ 
'T  is  better  by  far  no  wife  to  wed, 
But  go  through  the  world  without  any. 
The  fact  is,  we  ought  to  avoid  extremes  ; 
For  instance,  Solomon's,  who  it  seems 
Had  rather  too  much  of  wife  for  his  good, 
Not  to  name  the  enormous  amount  of  food 
That  such  an  army  of  mouths  consumed, 
And  house-rent ;  for  all  must  be  fed  and  roomed, 
Besides  the  jams,  and  jellies,  and  wines, 
For  the  wives,  not  to  reckon  the  concubines. 
Another  extreme  is  that  of  St.  Paul 
Whose  rule  was,  not  to  marry  at  all. 
St.  Paul,  we  know,  was  a  very  good  man, 
But  if  the  whole  race  should  follow  his  plan, 
The  world  would  soon  be  in  need  of  no  preachers, 
Apostles,  nor  parsons,  exhorters,  nor  teachers, 
Nor  churches,  conventicles,  bells  nor  steeple, 
For  the   reason,  the  world  would   soon  have   no 
people. 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  209 

And  as  to  the  ancient  patriarchs  ; 

Their  wives  have  luckily  left  behind, 

For  the  use  of  others,  a  piece  of  their  mind, 

And  a  few  of  their  most  significant  marks,  — 

With  feminine  forecast  very  kind,  — 

In  the  form  of  scratches,  by  teeth  and  nails, 

And  scars  of  tongues,  and  womanly  rails,  — 

The  hieroglyphics,  known  to  fame, 

Which  all  go  under  the  common  name 

Of  ancient  hand-guides  or  finger-marks,  — 

To  bid  us  beware  of  the  patriarchs 

In  matters  of  bigamy, 

As  the  double-headed  domestic  curse, 

And  parent  of  monster  progeny. 

One  wife  for  a  man  is  not  too  few, 

If  she  is  the  wife  she  ought  to  be ; 

And  if  she  is  not,  why,  two  or  three, 

Or  any  number  you  think  might  do, 

Would  only  make  matters  worse  ; 

They  'd  only  multiply  family  fights, 

And  fill  up  the  land  with  Ishmaelites, 

And  other  tribes  whose  names  end  with  "  tites," 

A  regular  string  of  inhuman  frights, 

And  hordes  of  Arab  robbers  and  beggars, 

Besides  a  host  of  deserted  Hagars. 

And  therefore  every  man  alive, 
In  order  to  have  the  world  to  thrive, 

14 


210  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Should  choose  a  mate,  and  marry  and  wive  ; 

And  if  in  order  to  keep  at  bay 

Connubial  cares,  and  such,  alway, 

He  tries  a  bachelor  life  of  revel, 

He  '11  lead,  at  least,  a  doubtful  life, 

And  maybe,  in  'scaping  the  arms  of  a  wife, 

Will  fall  in  the  arms  of  the  devil. 

Though  wedlock  came  from  Eden  the  blest, 
A  fruitful  source  of  peevish  unrest, 
However  slender  her  waist  may  be, 
And  what  other  beauties  her  lord  may  see, 
Is  a  wife  that  can't  digest. 
Her  hair  may  curl,  and  her  eyes  of  blue, 
And  rosy  cheeks,  and  so  on,  may  do  ; 
And,  like  the  magnet,  her  heart  may  be  true, 
And  worthy  the  best  of  husband's  trust ; 
And  yet,  no  matter  how  good  and  trusty, 
She  will,  if  always  nibbling  a  crust, 
Be  in  danger  of  growing  crusty. 
'T  is  all  very  well  that  the  dear  one  sings, 
And  pleasant  it  is  to  see  a  sweet  face  ; 
For  the  head  and  heart  have  the  highest  place  ; 
But  liver  and  lungs  are  vital  things, 
And  not  so  exceedingly  small-; 
And  no  one  will  wittingly  call  in  question 
The  fact  that  the  stomach  and  good  digestion 
Are  the  best  foundation  for  all. 


QUALITY  AND   QUANTITY.  211 

Dyspepsia,  Proteus  of  all  diseases, 

Of  all  the  ages,  and  every  clime, 

Will  take  all  their  forms,  if  not  each  name, 

To  frighten  and  shake  the  dear  one's  frame, 

And  threaten  her  death,  from  time  to  time. 

Consumption  is  coming  if  Susan  sneezes, 
And  phthisic,  or  asthma,  if  once  she  wheezes  ; 
And  liver  complaint,  from  pain  in  her  side, 
And  hundreds  of  other  complaints  beside  ; 
A  chill  will  cause  the  dear  one  to  beg  you 
To  run  for  a  cure  for  fever  and  ague  ; 
Unusual  pulsations  always  impart 
The  symptoms  of  sudden  disease  of  the  heart ; 
And  gradual  swelling  and  shortness  of  breath 
Mean  nothing  if  not  the  dropsy,  or  death. 
'T  is  therefore  that  healthful  body  and  mind 
Are  needful  in  wives  of  the  choicest  kind. 
That  is,  if  a  wife  is  n't  all  in  your  eye, 
Choose  one  who  can  laugh  as  well  as  cry, 
Who  knows  how  to  romp  as  well  as  to  sigh, 
And  to  eat  and  live  as  well  as  to  die. 

And  also  a  man  with  so  much  at  stake, 
For  himself,  and  other  folk  yet  unborn, 
Should,  both  for  his  own  and  those  others'  sake 
He  hopes  to  see  budding,  one  by  one, 
On  the  fruitful  vine,  some  summer  morn, 


212  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

And  bursting  out  in  the  light  of  the  sun, 

Be  careful  to  make 

No  foolish  mistake 
In  taking  a  wife,  lest,  haply,  he  find 
He  's  chosen  one  not  at  all  to  his  mind  ; 
As  hundreds  have  found  by  going  it  blind  ; 
And  instead  of  a  woman  of  Nature's  make, 
Find  saw-dust  and  cotton,  and  paint  and  dye, 
Made  artfully  up  to  suit  the  eye  ; 
Which  he  would  n't  wish  to  multiply, 
If  "  like  makes  like  "  with  a  progeny. 

Moreover,  he  ought  to  keep  himself  free 
From  the  old  fox-traps,  and  spring-gun  plan, 
So  not  to  be  caught,  as  Jacob  was ; 
(The  old  folks,  you  know,  were  the  cause,) 
And  keep  himself,  if  he  possibly  can, 
From  taking  the  wife  of  another  man  ; 
Lest  after  all  when  married  some  day, 
She  give  him  the  slip,  and  run  away, 
According  to  free-love  law,  set  free 
By  chemical  lack  of  affinity,  — 
A  modern  and  novel  discovery 
In  matrimonial  chemistry. 

Besides,  if  he  dont  get  a  wife  to  suit, 
He  '11  more  than  likely  change  to  a  brute  ; 
Owing  to  what  is  commonly  styled, 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  213 

When  both  the  parties  are  easily  riled, 

An  incompatible  temper. 
The  wife  of  his  bosom  will  snarl  and  bite  ; 
And  then  the  fond  husband  will  growl  and  fight, 

And  try  to  poison,  or  hemp  her, 
For  incompatible 
Meaning  combatable 

'Twixt  opposite  parties  wed, 
Requires  the  wife,  with  tongue  and  scratch, 

And  now  and  then  a  swoon  ; 
And  the  husband,  with  weapons  more  than  a  match, 

To  fight  from  the  wane  of  the  honeymoon 

Till  one  or  the  other  is  dead ; 
Unless  they  snap  the  hymenial  tether, 
Or  sulkily  onward,  at  loggerheads  pass, 
Like  a  goring  bull  and  a  kicking  she-ass 

Unequally  yoked  together. 

The  man  who  married  ten  thousand  a  year 
Ten  children,  and  widow,  felt  cheap  and  flat 
When  he  found  the  widow  was  dear  at  that ; 
And  he  always  called  her  his  "  dear  "  — 

Meaning  herself  and  her  money. 
For  she  was  so  old,  and  he  was  so  young, 
And  she  though  feeble  had  such  a  tongue,  — 

Not  nearly  as  sweet  as  honey. 
But  when  she  grew  old  and  sickly,  fast, 

He  almost  began  to  adore  her ; 


214  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Not  knowing,  of  course,  how  long  she  would  last, 
Till  he  came  to  die  before  her. 

The  Knickerbockers  did  better  than  this, 

In  the  olden  time  of  my  story  : 
They  thought  much  more  of  family  bliss 

Than  family  wealth  and  glory  ; 
And  found  other  use  for  fist  and  tongue 

Than  fighting  each  other  when  mated  ; 
But  then  the  land  was  so  very  young, 

And  so  unsophisticated! 
And  man  when  natural  is  so  funny, 
And  stupidly  simple  :  he  slowly  learns 
That  love,  and  equally  silly  concerns 
Are  less  important  than  money. 
The  Rusticus  often  excites  our  pity, 
That  man  should  smell  so  much  of  green  grass, 
And  burn  tallow  dips  instead  of  gas, 
And  learn  his  breeding  in  fields,  whereas 
'T  is  so  much  improved  in  the  city  ! 
For  Rusticus  holds,  that  Nature  provides, 
All  over  the  world,  and  under  the  sun, 
One  wife  for  a  man,  and  only  one  ; 
And  that  if  he  take  a  brace  of  brides, 
No  matter  how  slily  the  thing  be  done, 
Nor  what  he  may  call  it  by  name, 
He  does  a  mean  act,  a  sin  and  shame  ; 
Because  more  than  one  is  too  many, 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  215 

And  since  he  has  taken  more  than  his  share, 
Somebody  must  go  without  any. 

But  foul  in  the  country  in  town  is  fair ; 
As  shown  by  many  a  Bull  and  Bear, 
Who  prowls  and  paws  the  city  ground, 
And  gulps  his  feed  from  his  golden  tubs, 
And  scarcely  knows  that  his  calves,  or  cubs, 
Are  pasturing  all  around. 
He  has  a  family  every  one  knows  ; 
His  name  is  on  the  door  where  he  lives  ; 
But  what  are  the  names  of  his  other  wives, 

Nobody  knows  ; 

Nor  where  he  goes, 

When  business  calls  him  away,  as  it  does, 
Much  oftener  than  it  should  for  his  good, 
As  well  as  the  good  of  some  others. 
His  children  don't  know  their  sisters  and  brothers, 
Though   meeting    sometimes,  and   speaking    per 
chance, 

In  heated  saloons,  amid  the  dance, 
Or  similar  place,  where  they  gather ; 
And  showing  still  more  their  ignorance,  — 
His  children  dont  know  their  father ! 

And  king  Beelzebub  kindly  consents 
To  leave  his  predestined  nabob  awhile, 
Enjoying  his  nectar,  and  fortune's  smile, 


216  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  marble  palace,  and  golden  gain  ; 
Because  he  likes  to  have  him  maintain 
A  number  of  such  establishments. 

It  makes  him  smile 

To  see  the  guile 

By  which  a  man  can  live  in  style, 
And  be  so  extensive  a  father ! 
He  winks  at  the  supple  knees  that  cringe 
Around  the  nabob's  golden  fringe, 
His  golden  showers  to  gather  ; 
Like  flies  and  kites  that  gather  to  eat 
The  dainty  carcass  of  tainted  meat. 
The  devil  knows  what  the  man  is  at, 
While  filling  his  vessels  so  : 
And  as  to  the  tempest,  and  wrecks,  and  all  that, 
There  is  time  for  all  that  below. 


AND  this  is  the  reason,  as  far  as  we  know, 
Why  Saint  Brigham  Young  has  such  a  go, 
In  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
Where  Satan's  saints,  from  haunts  of  sin 
Throughout  the  world,  are  gathering  in ; 
And  Dead  Sea  snakes,  from  crawling  round 
The  globe,  at  last  a  den  have  found, 
Where  masculine  lust,  and  feminine  sorrow, 
And  all  their  loathsome  litter  abound. 
The  scum  of  cities  sunk  for  shame, 
By  floods  of  fire  and  sulphurous  rain, 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  217 

In  the  Old  World's  lust-polluted  plain,  — 

They  meet  in  the  New  World's  new  Salt  Lake, 

To  do  Beelzebub's  work,  the  same 

As  when  they  flaunted  their  ancient  name ; 

And  call  for  another  flood  of  flame 

To  wipe  out  the  New,  as  the  Old. 

Old  Satan,  of  course,  makes  no  complaints, 

But  smiles,  like  the  sun,  on  his  brazen  saints, 

Applauding  their  actions  bold  ; 

And  fills  their  snake-wreathed  cups  to  the  brim, 

While  they  bear  armsful  of  fuel  for  him,  — 

The  dried  old  lumber,  from  every  clime, 

And  stubble,  long  heated  in  lust  and  crime, 

To  make  the  flame  of  the  coming  fire 

Burn  deeper,  and  wider,  and  higher. 

He  glories  to  see  them  riot  and  revel, 

To  cure  what  they  call  the  social  evil, 

And  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  serve  the  devil, 

With  Satan's  anointing  oil  and  wine  ; 

And  very  religiously,  in  his  cause, 

Leer  both  in  the  face  of  God  and  man  ; 

And  sin,  undisturbed,  on  a  pious  plan  ; 

Snapping  their  fingers  at  human  laws, 

And  laughing  at  laws  divine. 

Nor  Brigham,  chief  Saint,  asks  shades  of  night 

To  cover  his  numerous  wives  from  sight ; 

Nor  brings  up  his  children  in  ignorance 

Of  whom  their  father  may  be ; 


218  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Like  manifold  others,  begotten  of  chance, 

Afar  from  the  new  Dead  Sea : 

But  rather  brags  of  his  fatherly  power 

To  call  off  his  offspring,  score  upon  score, 

And  hear  their  responses  like  waves  on  the  shore  ; 

And  fondly  hopes  for  a  few  dozen  more,  — 

If  his  vessels  come  in  at  the  hour. 

And  Nemesis  sleeps  on  Salt  Lake  shore, 

While  Brigham  yet  counts  his  harems  o'er, 

And  sees  not  a  cloud  to  overcast 

His  glorious  future  in  store. 

But  if  the  old  devil  don't  get  him  at  last 

Then  what  is  the  devil  for  ? 

The  butcher,  we  know,  is  sure  to  claim 

For  slaughter  the  beasts  he  owns  ; 

And  Satan  with  his  will  do  the  same  ; 

For  he  brands  them  deep,  with  leprous  flame, 

That  eats  to  their  very  bones. 

But  what  is  the  cause  of  his  long  delay. 

Till  they  think  the  devil  is  not  to  pay 

For  all  he  has  done  for  his  saints, 

In  spite  of  grumbling  Gentile  complaints  ? 

The  reason  he  does  n't  torment  them  now, 

As  whilom  our  friend  the  unhappy  Rip, 

With  witch  and  nightmare  and  goblin  woe, 

Must  be,  that  his  spells  have  bound  them  so, 

He  knows  they  '11  never  give  him  the  slip ; 

And  there  's  time  for  all  that  below. 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  219 

But  Rip,  the  unhappy,  we  're  happy  to  know 
Was  afraid  of  Satan,  —  was  Rip  ; 
And  tried  to  break  from  his  sulphurous  grip, 
Before  his  soul  was  undone. 
Of  wives  he  only  wished  one  ; 
And  honestly  thought  that  one  was  enough, 
And  did  n't  envy  the  man  that  had  more. 
The  fact  is  the  witches  had  been  rather  rough, 
And  got  to  be  rather  too  much  of  a  bore  : 
They  'd  overdone,  in  their  goblin  zeal, 
By  breaking  Katrina's  spinning  wheel, 
And  whisking  away  her  mother's  reel, 
And  girdling  her  true-love  cherry-tree, 
While  seeming  so  sweet  on  Anneke  : 
Though  Anneke' s  tongue  was  far  from  sweet ; 

And  even  her  temper  was  sour  ; 
And  all  her  face  grew  vinegar-red, 
As  stamping  the  floor  with  her  little  feet, 

On  losing  her  amiable  power, 
Her  words  came  down,  like  hail,  on  the  head 

Of  Rip,  exposed  to  the  shower. 
Nor  had  she  become  the  least  bit  thinner, 
Although  her  tongue  was  so  busy  a  sinner ; 
And  though  the  breakfast  and  supper  and  dinner 

Were  very  uncertain  things, 
Which  last  would  fly  away  at  the  hour 

Of  meal-time,  as  if  they  'd  wings ! 
The  turkeys,  the  game,  and  like  things  good, 


220  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Which  Rip  provided,  seemed  phantom  food  ; 
And  though  the  larder  was  full  of  meat, 
Yet  half  the  time  he  had  nothing  to  eat ; 
And  that  which  he  had  was  not  over  sweet, 
When  Anneke's  temper  was  sour. 

Nor  could  Katrine,  —  do  what  she  would, 
With  gentlest  charm,  and  wisest  skill, 
And  readiest  hands  to  work  her  will, 
And  words  as  soft  as  softest  silk, 
Prevent  the  thunder  from  spoiling  the  milk, 
Nor  witches  from  spoiling  the  food  ! 
'T  was  then  that  Rip,  not  always  suspicious, 
Began,  at  last,  to  grow  superstitious, 
And  to  link  his  Anneke  with  the  witches  ; 
Especially  as  he  found  her  in  niches, 
And  hide-away  places,  ghosting  about, 
At  hours  when  witches  were  always  out. 
At  any  rate,  well  he  knew,  't  was  she 
Who  girdled  Katrina's  cherry  tree  :  — 

For  he  saw  her  do  it ! 

And  Anneke  knew  it ; 
And  knew  that  the  knife  that  cut  the  bark 
Of  the  Homestead-tree,  like  a  thief  in  the  dark, 
Cut  more  than  she  meant  to  sever,  — 
Had  clipped  the  cord,  whate'er  it  might  be, 
That  bound  her  to  Rip  forever ! 


QUALITY  AND    QUANTITY.  22 

Katrina  was  patient,  and  kind,  and  mild ; 
Forgiving,  and  trusting,  as  any  child  ; 

And  proved  that  "  silence  is  golden  :  " 
She  nursed,  in  her  heart,  the  strength  of  right 
By  secretly  drinking,  day  and  night, 

From  well-springs  sacred  and  olden. 
And  yet  she  wilted  and  faded,  for  all ; 
Drooping,  as  choice  and  favorite  flower 
Grows  sickly  and  dies  from  blighting  power 
Of  some  hidden  worm,  however  small. 
The  warp  and  woof  of  her  singular  doom 
Were  tangled  like  those  of  her  husband's  loom : 
And  what  could  she  do  but  wait,  and  trust, 
As  one  in  such  a  condition  must  ? 

And  as  for  poor  Rip,  why,  no  one  knows, 
But  a  husband,  a  husband's  woes, 
And  variegated  trouble  ; 
And  Rip  was  a  double  husband,  which  shows 
That  his,  at  least,  were  double. 
His  farm  once  flourishing  by  his  skill, 
And  hardy  blows,  and  sturdy  will, 

Was  left  to  Caesar  and  weeds, 

And  both  were  going  to  seeds  ; 
For  nothing  can  prosper,  in  field,  or  town, 
If  the  house  we  live  in  be  upside  down. 
The  neighbors  gave  out  that  Rip  was  lazy, 
Though  some,  more  merciful,  called  him  crazy. 


222  ONE  WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

But  not  a  soul  but  the  husband  knows 

The  hidden  springs  of  a  husband's  woes, 

Nor  what  he  drinks  from  his  daily  cup  ; 

For  hearts  like  houses,  are  sided  up, 

And  roofed,  and  the  curtains  hung. 

But  Anneke  had  a  bell  of  a  tongue, 

That  must,  at  all  hazards,  always  be  rung ; 

And  said  whatever  it  had  to  say, 

In  a  fearless,  ringing  sort  of  way ; 

So  write  the  chroniclers  of  that  day. 

'Tis  also  said  that  "  walls  have  ears," 

And  "  a  bird  will  carry  away  what  it  hears  ;  " 

And  however  true,  or  false  this  be, 

Somebody,  if  not  a  bird  of  the  air, 

Had  borne  the  news  to  the  Dominie 

Of  Rip  and  his  partners,  foul,  or  fair, 

Which  sent  the  good  man  to  see. 


XIX. 

WAR. 

THE  Dominie  came  like  a  streak  of  light 
On  storm-clouds  ;  happening  in  while  the  fight, 
In  Rip's  log-cabin,  was  at  its  height ; 
Which  arose  from  Katrina's  cherry-tree, 
Outrageously  wounded  by  Anneke. 
And  hence  it  was  that  it  came  to  pass 


WAR.  223 

The  Dominie  saw  the  whole  in  mass,  — 

Katrina  in  tears,  the  patient  Katrine, 

Anneke  raving  and  pulling  her  hair, 

And  Rip,  like  a  freestone  statue,  between, 

Of  motionless,  blank  despair  ! 

The  Dominie  ne'er  in  his  life  had  seen 

Such  a  pandemonium  sort  of  sight ; 

Nor  a  man  in  such  a  terrible  plight. 

He  never  had  seen  a  man  with  two  wives, 

Trying  to  live  two  opposite  lives, 

And  honestly  striving,  with  all  his  might, 

To  make  ends  meet  'twixt  wrong  and  right. 

Such  a  war  'gainst  Nature  day  and  night, 

Poor  Rip  had  waged  ;  and  succumbed  in  the  fight, 

As  Dominie  saw  by  the  flashing  light 

Of  his  eyes,  and  the  set  of  his  jaws. 

His  friend,  good  Rip,  was  not  what  he  was  : 

Nor  Anneke,  —  nor  Katrine, 

Nor  any  thing  as  it  had  been. 

The  Dominie  gave  his  hand  to  Rip  :  — 

Rip  crushed  it  with  a  spasmodic  grip. 

His  faith  in  Dominie  had  been  shaken, 

Like  every  thing  else  about  Rip  : 

He  'd  found  the  Oracle  was  mistaken, 

And  then  had  tried  Hollands  and  flip ; 

And  these  having  only  shaken  him  worse, 

He  left  the  inn,  with  an  inward  curse, 

And  resigned  himself  to  fate. 


224  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  fate  had  made  him  a  shuttlecock, 

And  bruised  him  with  many  a  battledoor-knock, 

Too  horrible  to  relate. 

The  Dominie,  seeing  his  woful  state, 
Spake  kindly  to  him  in  Dutch  ; 
But  as  his  ears  had  been  battered  dead, 
And  he  did  n't  hear  a  syllable  said, 
It  did  n't  affect  him  much. 
And  Anneke's  tongue  rang  out  like  a  bell, 
For  Anneke  had  her  grievance  to  tell ; 
And  Dominie  soon  had  enough  to  do, 
As  cook  in  such  a  domestic  stew ! 
Nor  could  he  get  Anneke's  tongue  to  rest 
Till  the  blushing  sun  sank  down  in  the  west. 
And  then  the  Dominie  sat  awhile, 
Rolling  his  thumbs  and  trying  to  smile, 
Like  an  uninvited  guest. 
But  not  long  sat,  in  such  awkward  style, 
Before  made  welcome,  by  good  Katrine, 
To  gathered  up,  frugal  repast ; 
Which  she,  by  leaving  the  war,  unseen, 
With  womanly  tact  and  kind  forecast, 
Got  ready,  with  hospitality, 
To  cheer  and  freshen  the  Dominie,  — 
The  Blucher  with  reinforcements  sent 
To  Waterloo  on  a  smaller  scale,  — 
He  looked  so  jaded  and  pale. 


WAR.  225 

When  this  was  o'er  much  time  was  spent 
In  talking  of  life's  great  mystery, 
And  strange  events  ordained  to  be, 
And  things  we  never  can  understand, 
Because  our  eyes  are  too  dull  to  see. 
When  Rip,  the  silent,  suddenly 
Arose  and  seized  the  Dominie's  hand, 
And  led  him  forth  to  an  outer  shed, 
In  the  loft  of  which  was  Caesar's  bed. 
Here  Rip  had  seen,  though  nothing  he  said, 
On  many  a  dark  and  lone  midnight, 
Around  a  dim  and  sulphurous  light, 
The  shadows  of  a  singular  band, 
Whose  revels  had  filled  his  soul  with  dread. 
And  here,  by  pantomimic  command, 
He  bade  the  astonished  Dominie  stand  ; 
And  then  with  trembling  hand  to  his  head, 
As  if  to  hold  his  thoughts  in  his  brain, 
And  rolling  his  eyes  like  one  insane, 
He  left  the  Dominie  to  remain, 
Till  mounting  the  loft  and  coming  again 
He  bade  the  Dominie  follow.     In  vain ! 
The  good  man  doubted  where  Rip  might  lead, 
And  feared  some  desperate  sort  of  deed 
In  Rip's  peculiar  state. 
He  did  n't  like  to  trust  his  life 
To  a  man  with  a  double  lot  of  wife, 
Alone,  at  any  rate. 

15 


226  ONE    WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

But  Rip,  by  an  effort,  settling  his  mind, 

He  followed,  at  last,  not  far  behind, 

Until  they  both  had  mounted  the  loft, 

By  the  aid  of  a  lantern's  shielded  light ; 

And  there,  in  the  dead  of  that  summer's  night, 

He  saw,  in  the  garret-loft  a  sight 

That  made  his  hair  stand  up  on  end 

Through  all  his  life  thereafter  ! 
He  heard  the  strangest  orgies  blend 

With  wierd  and  wildest  laughter  ; 
And  heard  the  good  name  of  Rip,  his  friend, 

As  one  who  was  doomed  to  slaughter 
In  that  world  whence  Dives  tried  to  send 

To  this  for  a  drop  of  water. 

A  group  was  seated  around  a  table, 
On  which  was  a  parchment  scroll ; 
And  Dominie,  by  a  feint,  was  able 
To  read  the  names  on  the  roll. 
By  looking  stealthily  over  the  shoulder 
Of  him  who  seemed  to  be  chief  of  the  rest, 
And  much  like  Buckhout,  the  innkeeper,  dressed, 
Though  lither,  and  bolder,  and  older  ; 
He  caught  at  a  single  glance  the  sight, 
Among  the  names,  of  the  name  of  Rip, 
In  letters  of  bluish  brimstone  light ! 
Quick  turning,  with  finger  on  his  lip, 
To  keep  Rip  silent,  —  he  held  his  breath, 


WAR.  227 

And  with  a  face  as  pale  as  death, 

The  Dominie  fixed  for  a  fight, 

Like  virtue  arming  'gainst  evil : 

And  then,  in  the  name  of  good  and  right, 

He  grappled  with  the  devil. 

A  sudden  rush,  and  a  flash  of  flame, 
And  the  battle  all  was  o'er ! 
For  that  the  Dominie  was  game 
That  gang  well  knew  before : 
So  hustled  down,  the  way  they  came, 
Quick,  through  a  spring  trap-door, 
And  hid  themselves,  in  guilty  shame, 
In  the  hay,  on  the  stable-floor  ; 
For  they  feared  the  talismanic  name 

Of  good  and  right, 
Which  was  the  Dominie's  battle-cry, 
When  dashing  into  the  fight, 
With  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  to  do  or  die, 
In  the  stable-loft  that  night. 

The  fight  was  o'er,  and  not  a  soul 
But  he  and  Rip  was  there  ; 
And  not  a  speck  of  the  parchment  scroll, 
That  had  Rip's  name  upon  its  roll ; 
And  nothing  but  bed  and  timbers  bare, 
And  a  smell  of  sulphur  in  the  air ! 
The  lantern  was  swept  away  in  the  fight, 


228  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  all  was  dark,  for  dark  was  the  night ; 
But  Dominie  said,  as  well  he  might, 
After  putting  such  forces  to  flight, 
That,  "  he  who  earnestly  seeks  for  light 
Will  not  in  the  dark  be  long : . 
And  he  who  honestly  strives  to  do  right 
Will  not  be  left  to  do  wrong" 

By  this  great  battle  and  victory 
Rip's  confidence  in  the  Dominie 
Was  fully  restored.     Then,  arm  in  arm, 
They  walked  together,  in  converse  free, 
The  victor  without  the  least  alarm, 
And  Rip  with  spirits  't  was  good  to  see. 
The  two  were  like  twins,  in  harmony ; 
And  Castor  and  Pollux,  the  Gemini, 
Who  never  fall  out,  but  always  agree, 
As,  arm  in  arm,  they  pace  through  the  sky, 
Looked  down  from  the  starlit  canopy, 
And  smiled  to  behold  them  walking  there, 
So  pleasantly,  in  the  midnight  air. 
And  so,  in  truth,  did  every  star, 
Whose  eye  was  able  to  see  so  far, 
Who  happened  to  be  on  guard  that  night, 
Express  its  joy  at  so  goodly  a  sight, 
By  shining  with  more  than  usual  light. 
And  so  did  the  spirits  that  dwell  in  trees, 
That  tend  to  their  growth,  and  weave  their  leaves, 


WAR.  229 

And  give  them  form  and  color  to  please, 
Who  do  the  most  of  their  work  at  night ; 
These  seemed  to  be  filled  with  great  delight, 
And  clapped  their  hands,  and  sang  a  song,  — 
A  many- voiced,  dreamy  sort  of  song,  — 
As  if  from  a  vastly  numerous  throng, 
While  Rip  and  the  Dominie  paced  along. 

The  gossiping  chroniclers  also  say, 
That  Buckhout  stealthily  dogged  their  way, 
Like  a  cowardly  wolf  who  'd  lost  his  prey  ; 
Leading  his  roystering  tavern-crew, 
Smelling  of  sulphur  and  looking  blue  ; 
And  that  he  boasted,  the  following  day, 
Of  having  played  the  devil  that  night 
So  well  that  he  cheated  the  Dominie  ; 
As  he  pretended  he  'd  often  done 
Poor  Rip,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  fun. 
But  this  the  chroniclers  all  agree 
Were  simply  an  impossibility  ; 
For  the  Dominie  knew  the  devil  as  well 
As  he  did  the  sound  of  his  own  church-bell ; 
And  inn-keepers  rather  stay  home  to  sell 

Their  honest  gin, 

In  the  cozy  inn, 

With  due  respect  for  the  author  of  sin, 
Than  go  to  a  stable-loft  for  a  revel, 
At  midnight,  merely  to  sham  the  devil. 


230  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

At  length,  their  walk  and  talk  being  o'er, 
They  entered  again  the  cabin-door, 
To  hold  a  solemn  council  once  more, 
Much  better  prepared  than  heretofore. 

Fair  Anneke  still  remained  quite  sore ; 
And  hence  when  the  mild-voiced  Dominie 
Began  with  a  sacred  homily 

On  the  origin  of  evil, 
Descanting  with  due  humility, 
If  we  consider  his  victory, 

About  the  devil ;  — 

Saying  how  great  would  have  been  the  joy 
To  earth,  on  which  he  had  brought  the  curse, 
If  he  had  been  held  with  bolt  and  bar ; 
Or  chained  to  the  tail  of  some  burning  star, 
To  be  dragged  for  aye  round  the  universe, 
As  Hector  was  to  Achilles'  car, 
And  dragged  three  times  around  Troy  ;  — 
Fair  Anneke's  tongue  anon  grew  worse, 
And  groaned,  and  began  to  make  complaint ; 
And  breaking  loose  from  all  restraint, 
Flashed  flaming  words  from  her  burning  lip : 
u  She  'd  rather  be  in  Beelzebub's  grip 
Than  trampled  on  as  she  was  by  Rip, 
A  man  who  was  killing  himself  with  flip ! 
She  wished  she  had  her  scissors,  to  clip 
The  strings  of  life,  to  give  him  the  slip  ! 


WAR.  231 

She  wished  in  her  heart  she  'd  not  been  born  ! 
And  that  she  had  died  in  the  place  of  Van  Horn ! 
And  that  she  could  fly  to  the  top  of  High  Torn, 
To  live  the  life  of  a  hermit  forlorn, 
And  never  see  any  more  men  !  " 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  Dominie,  "  hear  me  out ! 
You  don't  know  what  you  're  talking  about, 
Your  wishes  are  all  in  vain ; 

For  born  you  have  been 

In  a  world  of  sin, 
And  can't  get  out  without  pain ; 
And  they  who  play  on  themselves  old  Cain, 
Murdering  their  bodies  like  Abels  slain, 
To  shorten  life's  road,  by  cutting  'cross  lots, 
(Whatever  their  hope  or  desire,) 
Behave  like  eels  that  jump  from  the  pots, 
Or  frying-pans,  into  the  fire. 
And  therefore,  whatever  your  ire, 

Or  howsoever  molested, 
Nay,  even  if  trampled  on,  like  a  worm, 
You  'd  better  bear  it,  and  wriggle  and  squirm, 
Than  leap,  like  a  snap-bug,  into  the  jaw 
Of  Death  ;  for  when  you  are  once  in  his  maw 

You  can't  get  out  till  digested. 
Whereas  in  this  world  there  is  n't  a  cave, 
Or  dungeon  of  sorrow,  this  side  the  grave, 
You  cannot  escape  from  before  you  die, 


232  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

If  you  patiently  wait,  and  fairly  try ; 

For  Jonah  even  got  out  of  the  fish. 

But  you  mustn't  merely  whimper  and  wish, 

But  go  to  work,  like  the  son  of  Kish, 

Or  a  daughter  of  Shimei. 

Which  brings  me  now  to  the  second  head,"  — 

Whereat  the  Dominie  looked,  in  the  face, 

As  if  by  his  subject  forcibly  led, 

(As  rigorous  needle  leads  the  thread,) 

Into  a  very  tight  place. 

But  jogging  along,  at  uneasy  pace, 

He  came  to  the  cross-roads  of  Doubly  Wed, 

And  so  on  ;  of  which  enough  has  been  said. 

"  And  now  we  want  to  discover,"  said  he, 

"  The  proper  way  out,  —  the  remedy. 

'  To  err,'  (you  know  the  proverb,)  '  is  human? 

Applying  of  course  to  man  and  woman, 

To  you  and  yours,  to  me  and  to  mine  ; 

You  know  the  rest,  <  to  forgive  is  divine.' 

Now,  here  was  an  error  without  intent, 

And  the  fault  is  small  where  none  was  meant ; 

For  Rip  was  not  the  man  to  consent 

A  second  partner  to  woo  and  wed 

Without  supposing  the  first  one  dead. 

The  same  must  be  true  of  Anneke. 

And  hence  at  this  point  we  all  agree 

That  all  the  parties  are  innocent. 

But  then,  in  the  course  of  time,  'twas  seen, 


WAR.  233 

That  she  who  was  dead  —  the  good  Katrine  — 
Had  come  from  the  regions  of  death  to  life. 
Of  course  she  was  still  her  husband's  wife ; 
And  doubtless  it  caused  her  a  deal  of  pain, 
On  coming  to  find  him  married  again. 

"  Well,  now,  in  fatherland  we  know 
Exactly  what  we  'd  have  to  do  : 
A  man  can't  have  a  second  wife 
During  the  first  one's  natural  life. 
But  living  here  —  the  country  new  — 
The  second  knot  being  duly  tied, 
When  all  believed  Katrine  had  died, 
I  thought  that  Rip  might  keep  the  two, 
If  wishing,  till  the  thing  was  tried. 
But  tried  the  thing  has  thoroughly  been, 
Till  all  are  as  tired  and  cross  as  sin, 
Especially  Rip  and  Anneke. 
Besides,  the  tongues  of  Rumor  are  free ; 

The  town  has  an  ear  that  itches  ; 
And  looking  around  we  can't  but  see 

The  work  of  Satan  and  witches. 
And  so  I  confess,  it  seems  to  me 
That  Rip  from  Katrine,  or  Anneke, 

Had  better  be  untied. 
The  question 's  only,  which  shall  it  be, 

His  first,  or  second  bride  ? 
A  matter  of  choice  entirely  free 

Howe'er  you  may  decide. 


234  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  now,  to  make  the  parting  pangs  less, 

I  've  only  a  word  beside,  — 
Whoever  shall  bear  this  sad  distress 

Must  not  be  made  a  beggar ; 
Shall  not  go  forth  to  the  wilderness 

An  unprovided  Hagar ; 
And  as  there  is  n't  an  Ishmael, 
But  plenty  of  water,  in  spring  and  well, 
And  really,  as  I  need  not  tell, 
In  this  good  land  no  desert  at  all, 
Her  hardships,  of  course,  will  be  but  small." 

And,  then,  with  wisdom  to  suit  the  time, 
And  a  look  that  was  grand  to  look  upon, 
The  Dominie  almost  grew  sublime, 
And  seemed  like  another  Solomon. 

"  Now,  ladies  !  your  choice  will  simply  be 
Between  the  man  and  the  property  ! 
Your  choice  is  now  untrammelled  and  free  ; 
The  one  shall  have  house  and  land,  in  fee, 
The  other  shall  merely  possess  the  man  ; 
That  is,  if  Rip  will  agree  to  the  plan." 

u  I  do,"  said  Rip,  "  most  cheerfully, 
Excepting  but  the  cherry-tree, 
Now  wounded,  with  Katrina's  name  ; 
Land  or  no  land,  that  tree  I  '11  claim." 


WAR.  235 

Then  Dominie  turned  benignantly 
His  beaming  eyes  upon  Anneke  ; 
And  asked  her  to  freely  take  her  choice. 
And  Anneke  said,  "  If  she  had  a  voice, 
At  all,  in  the  matter,  she  'd  take  the/arm. 
'T  was  easy  enough,"  she  at  once  began  — 
(Her  tongue  was  loose  and  away  it  ran)  — 
"  'T  was  easy  enough  to  get  a  man" 
(Sarcastic,  curling  her  upper  lip,) 
"  And  she  did  n't  feel  the  least  alarm 
But  that  she  'd  get  a  better  than  Rip  ! 
'T  was  harder  she  owned  to  get  a  farm." 

Then  Dominie  asked  the  fair  Katrine 
If  she  had  a  choice  what  her  choice  would  be  ? 
With  blushingest  smile  that  e'er  was  seen 
She  modestly  answered,  "  I  do  agree 
To  take  what  is  left  by  Anneke  : 
My  husband  is  all  the  world  to  me" 

On  which  the  Dominie  bade  the  three, 
For  order's  sake,  and  formality, 
And  that  the  matter  might  duly  stand, 
To  arise,  and  hold  each  other  by  hand ;  — 
On  either  side  Anneke  and  Katrine, 
And  Rip,  the  double  husband,  between. 
He  then  descanted,  with  solemn  air, 
On  all  the  events  that  brought  them  there, 


236  ONE    WIFE   TOO   MANY. 

And  wrongs  of  double  connubial  lot ; 

And  added,  "  We  now  will  proceed,  with  care, 

To  untie  the  extra,  the  second,  knot !  " 

Addressing  himself  to  Rip  and  Katrine, 
He  said,  u  If  you  wish  and  sacredly  mean 
To  hold  each  other  as  husband  and  wife, 
In  good  and  evil,  through  all  your  life, 
And  give  to  Anneke  house  and  lands, 
Declare  it,  while  holding  each  other's  hands." 
They  answered,  "  We  do !  "  most  cheerfully. 

Then  turning  to  Rip  and  Anneke, 
He  said,  "  If  you  still  consent  and  agree, 
On  terms  already  mentioned,  to  be 
As  if  you  'd  never  been  married  by  me, 
Let  go  your  hands,  in  sign  of  release, 
And  that  you  thus  part,  for  life,  in  peace." 

They  parted  hands  ;  and  Anneke,  shorn 
Of  Rip  Van  Bigham,  was  'gain  Van  Horn ! 
She  curled  her  lip,  and  smiled,  and  sighed, 
As  standing  apart  from  Van  Bigham's  side, 
She  looked  the  very  reverse  of  a  bride  ; 
While  Dominie,  with  an  air  of  pride, 
Pronounced  the  marriage  knot  untied ; 
Concluding,  he  hoped  they  were  satisfied. 
4  For  himself  he  felt  he  had  never  done 


WAR.  237 

A  wiser  action  under  the  sun  ; 
For  Rip  and  Katrine  had  ever  been  one, 
Since  their  marriage  morn,  in  Amsterdam, 
Since  Death  had  only  played  them  a  sham ; 
And  Rip  had  done  a  noble  act, 
In  making  over,  by  solemn  pact, 
What  Anneke  had  no  right  to  demand,  — 
A  generous  gift  of  house  and  land. 
And  Anneke  now  was  free  to  choose  ; 
For  soon  the  yonkers  would  hear  the  news, 
And  he  would  n't  be  surprised,  at  all, 
To  receive,  in  a  month  or  two,  a  call 
To  make  her  again  a  happy  bride, 
With  a  knot  that  needn't  to  be  untied.' 
"  And,  lastly,  I  trust  we  '11  all  be  friends  : 
Forgive  whatever  there  is  to  forgive, 
Forget  whatever  is  best  to  forget, 
And  friendly  and  lovingly  try  to  live  ; 
For  life  has  much  in  store  for  you  yet. 
Amen,  Amen  ;  may  we  all  be  friends  !  " 
And  thus  the  strange  ceremonial  ends. 

Then  Rip,  and  Katrine,  and  the  Dominie, 
In  turn,  shook  hands  with  fair  Anneke  ; 
And  speaking  kind  words,  in  soft  Low  Dutch, 
They  seemed  to  soothe  and  flatter  her  much ; 
Rip  praising  her  powers  and  industry, 
Especially  in  matters  of  food  ! 


238  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  saying,  he  thought  she  had  tried  all  she  could 

While  they  were  living  as  husband  and  wife, 

To  lead  him  a  peaceable,  quiet  life  ; 

And  how,  in  his  secret  heart,  he  had  tried 

To  regard  her  as  the  rib  of  his  side  ; 

And  really  thought  that  he  had  begun, 

Till,  finding  that  Death  and  the  grave  had  lied, 

And  had  to  send  back  his  kidnapped  bride, 

He  knew  there  could  be  but  only  one 

For  a  man  to  love,  as  he  ought  to  love  : 

And  matches  are  made  above. 

"  And  matches  are  also  made  below  !  " — 
Said  Anneke  with  her  eyes  aglow, 
And  the  air  of  a  person  who  ought  to  know,  — 
"  Or  woman  would  not  be  treated  so 
Outrageously,  as  all  histories  show 
She  always  has  been  since  the  world  began,  — 
Like  a  slave,  and  beast  of  burden  for  man. 
The  girl  is  a  jewel  while  being  wooed,  — 
A  flower,  —  an  angel.  —  any  thing  good. 
She  sings,  —  oh  my  !  she  sings  like  a  bird  ! 
But  as  soon  as  the  courting  days  are  over, 
And  man 's  a  husband,  instead  of  a  lover, 

The  flower  is  crushed  ! 

Her  songs  are  hushed  ! 
Or,  if  they  are  sung,  are  never  heard  ; 
Her  tongue  is  a  bore,  if  she  speaks  a  word ; 


WAR.  239 

And  all  her  beauty  has  suddenly  fled : 

The  jewel 's  a  worthless  piece  of  lead, 

The  angel  is  merely  a  two-legged  mule, 

To  obey  the  driver, — her  husband's  rule, 

And  carry  his  baggage,  and  bear  the  weight 

Of  any  load  that  his  silly  pate 

May  happen  to  think  of,  early  or  late ; 

And  when  the  poor  jade  is  broken  down 

He  sells  her  off,  to  some  other  clown  ; 

Or  turns  her  out  to  die,  on  the  town. 

Oh  the  men  !  the  tyrants !  the  wicked  men  ! 

If  ever  I  choose  to  marry  again, 

I  give  the  simpleton  warning,  now, 

I  '11  teach  him  what  a  man  ought  to  know. 

And  after  he  takes  the  marriage  vow, 

If  he  don't  fulfill  it  I  '11  make  him  show 

The  reason  why  not !  a  pretty  plight 

A  woman  is  in  if  might  makes  right ! 

No,  sir  !  I  intend  to  have  my  way  ; 

I  '11  have  it  all  down  in  black  and  white  ; 

It 's  time  a  woman  had  something  to  say  ! 

She  's  as  good  as  her  master,  any  day  !  " 

Rip  heard  her  through,  though  feeling  abused, 
And  meekly  answered,  like  one  long  used 
To  be  well  pounded,  and  pestled,  and  bruised, 

In  the  matrimonial  mortar,  — 
That  what  she  had  said  was  partly  true  ; 


240  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  he  desired,  as  far  as  he  knew, 
That  every  woman  should  have  her  due  ; 
But  as  to  wives  — he  could  n't  stand  two. 
He  had  n't  intended  to  do  her  wrong, 
To  crush  her  flowers,  nor  hush  her  song, 
Nor  hamper,  at  all,  her  musical  tongue  ; 
Nor  at  any  time  to  make  her  a  mule, 
And  though  he  'd  acted,  he  thought,  like  a  fool, 

He  'd  never  intended  to  court  her : 
And  hoped  she  'd  never  forget  the  fact  ; 
And  was  going  on,  with  more  truth  than  tact, 
When,  catching  a  glance  of  Katrina's  eye, 
He  closed  by  saying,  he  hoped  she  'd  try 
To  forgive  and  forget  whate'er  he  'd  done  ; 
For  he  felt  as  sorry  as  any  one, 

And  only  meant  to  confess  it ; 
She  knew  he  had  n't  the  gift  of  speech  ; 
The  words  he  wanted  were  out  of  his  reach, 

And  so  he  could  n't  express  it ; 
But  hoped  she  'd  only  remember  the  best, 
Whatever  it  was,  and  forget  the  rest ; 
And  wished  from  his  heart  she  might  be  blest. 


PEACE.  241 

XX. 

PEACE. 

FAIR  Anneke  had  much  more  to  say  ; 
But  Dominie  skillfully  hedged  the  way, 
By  hinting,  that  night  had  turned  to  day  ; 
And  chronicling  cocks  were  crowing  gay ; 
And  Morning  had  sent  his  courier  ray  ; 
And  that  the  usual  morning's  repast 
Was  a  pleasant  way  to  break  one's  fast. 
He  thought  the  night  had  been  so  well  spent 
That  every  one  ought  to  be  content ; 
But  fasting  was  rather  a  detriment. 

Then  Anneke  being  herself  once  more, 
And  Rip  and  Katrina  all  their  own, 
And  the  reign  of  the  goblins  being  o'er, 
And  Order  having  tripped  to  her  throne, 
And  every  thing  to  its  proper  place, 
The  breakfast  came  in  with  easy  grace  ! 

So  readily  got, 

And  smoking  hot, 
And  overflowing  with  rich  supplies, 
That  Rip  in  wonder  opened  his  eyes  ; 
And,  when  he  did  so,  believed  them  riot, 
But  sat  as  if  spell-bound  to  the  spot, 

In  a  dreamy  state  of  delight. 

16 


242  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  even  Anneke  looked  with  surprise, 

And  uttered  sweet  words,  she  hardly  knew  what, 

Of  pleasure,  at  such  at  sight. 
And  all  looked  on  the  good  Katrine, 
As  subjects  regard  a  gentle  queen, 

Who  only  thinks  of  their  good  ; 
And  a  queen  she  was  ordained  to  be 
Of  loving  hearts,  and  a  happy  home, 
Where  willing  subjects  delight  to  come, 
And  bow  in  joyous  fealty. 
There  never  had  been  more  savory  food, 
Nor  pleasanter  meal,  more  lavishly  praised, 
By  honester  tongues,  in  happier  mood, 
In  Rip's  log-cabin,  morn,  noon,  nor  night, 
Since  the  day  the  cabin  was  raised. 
Which  Dominie  laid  to  the  timely  fight 
By  which  he  'd  put  the  devil  to  flight, 
And  so  set  things  in  general  right. 

Katrina  replied,  she  knew  't  was  so ; 
u  For  evil  and  wrong  bring  always  woe  ; 
But  doing  right,  as  far  as  we  know, 
Brings  joy  and  peace  whatever  we  do, 
And  whether  our  lot  be  rich,  or  poor, 
The  reward  of  right  is  ever  sure." 

Then  Anneke,  soothed  by  the  peaceful  meal, 
By  way  of  peace-offering  dropped  a  tear, 


PEACE.  243 

And  a  twin-born  dove  of  a  sombre  smile ; 
And  stated,  what  all  were  glad  to  hear, 
That  she  meant  to  go,  for  the  public  weal, 
On  a  visit  below,  —  if  Rip,  the  while, 
Would  help  her  on  board  the  Pioneer. 
Indeed  she  had  thought,  for  more  than  a  year, 

Of  going  to  Spuyten  Duyvil : 
She  'd  heard  so  much  of  that  lovely  spot, 
And  wanted  to  see  Hank  Lippencott,  — 

Her  sainted  Van  Horn's  old  rival, — 
The  brother  of  Brom,  the  gay-looking  man, 
Who  married  last  fall  the  belle  of  Tappan,  — 
A  schoolmate  of  hers,  whom  Rip  would  remember ; 
The  Dominie  married  them  last  November, 
A  year  (the  time  the  cabin  was  raised) 
Or,  last  of  October ;  —  and  every  one  praised 

Brom  Lippencott,  at  the  raising. 
Well,  Hank,  his  brother,  though  somewhat  crazed, 

Was  equally  worthy  of  praising ; 
For  both  were  good-looking  men  ; 
But  Hank  had  been  rather  sad  and  forlorn, 
Because  she  jilted  him  for  Van  Horn  ; 
And  kept  unmarried  since  then. 
And  would  n't  good  Rip  take  care  of  the  farm, 
And  keep  the  crops  from  suffering  harm  ? 
She  fancied  she  'd  better  sell  the  place  ; 
Of  late,  somehow,  it  had  lost  its  charm, 
There  had  been  so  much  of  noise  and  alarm  ; 


244  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  she  felt,  in  her  bones,  enough  to  know 
That  Spuyten  Duyvillers,  seeing  her  face, 
Would  wish  her  to  stay  below  ; 
And  as  the  sloop  had  been  ready  to  go 
For  more  than  a  week,  with  cargo  stored, 
She  thought  it  better,  if  Rip  thought  so, 
To  pack  up  at  once,  and  go  on  board. 
And  Rip  assenting,  they  all  were  cheered. 
And  ere  the  sun  had  got  very  high 
That  day,  on  his  way  to  the  upper  sky, 
Fair  Anneke  bade  them  all,  "  Good-by," 
On  her  way  below.     And  the  Pioneer 
Soon  hoisted  her  sails,  with  a  rousing  cheer 
And  so  the  coast  was  cleared  ! 


XXI. 

RECONSTRUCTION. 

THE  infant  day,  in  the  arms  of  the  sun, 

Was  shining  all  aglow  ; 
The  tide  had  turned,  and  restless  waves 

Began  in  peace  to  flow. 

The  morning  blushed  to  see  herself 

Reflected  in  the  bay. 
And  spreading  forth  her  golden  wings, 

Flew  round  the  earth  away. 


RECONSTRUCTION.  245 

The  birds  trilled  out  as  sweet  a  song 

As  ear  of  man  e'er  heard  ; 
And  Sparkle  Creek  sang,  in  the  woods, 

As  sweet  as  any  bird. 

The  sunbeams  kissed  the  tears  away 

Which  earth  had  shed  at  night ; 
And  poplar  groves,  and  forest  trees, 

Were  laughing  with  delight. 

The  bees,  rejoicing  in  their  toil, 

And  glad  that  day  had  come, 
Thronged  from  their  city  gates  in  crowds, 

With  a  city's  busy  hum. 

A  hundred  bright-winged  insect-tribes, 

Happy  as  day  is  long, 
With  bands  of  music  danced  for  joy, 

And  filled  the  air  with  song. 

The  hills  were  glad,  the  fields  rejoiced, 

Through  all  the  country  round  ; 
And  the  rustling  corn  shook  golden  dust, 

Like  manna,  on  the  ground. 

The  zephyrs  wooed  the  cherry-tree 

That  bore  Katrina's  name, 
And  amorous  sunbeams  warmed  its  roots, 

With  new  and  fruitful  flame. 


246  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

The  humble  cabin  saw  it  all 

With  joy  it  had  not  known ; 
And  they  that  dwelt  therein  gave  thanks, 

As  though  it  were  their  own. 

Within,  without,  in  harmony 

Were  all  things,  great  and  small ; 

For  the  pure  in  heart  love  all  things  pure, 
And  Him  who  made  them  all. 

The  stoutest  sailors  when  their  ship 
*    Has  lost  her  reckoning, 
And  drives  before  the  storm,  sing  not ; 
But  safe  in  port,  they  sing. 

And  gentle  brooks  by  sudden  showers 
Are  choked  and  cannot  sing ; 

Too  full  for  song,  o'erflowing  tears 
Are  all  their  offering. 

Van  Bigham  now  began  to  sing, 

Who  had  not  sung  before 
Since  Rip  Van  Dam  so  struck  him  dumb, 

With  the  heavy  news  he  bore. 

His  joy-pressed  heart  flowed  not  in  song 
When  lost  Katrine,  his  bride, 

Like  one  new-risen  from  the  dead, 
Stood  trembling  at  his  side. 


RIP'S  SONG    OF  HIS    WIFE.  247 

Then  came  the  night  whose  wrangling  storms 

For  weeks  obscured  the  light ; 
And  birds  of  song,  that  sing  by  day, 

Sing  not  in  such  a  night. 

But  night  had  passed,  —  the  day  had  come, 

Like  an  angel  from  above  ; 
And  now  all  Nature's  voices  sang, 

And  all  their  song  was  love. 

Nor  was  it  strange  Rip's  song  should  be 

Of  his  good  wife,  Katrine, 
For  purer  love,  nor  gentler  wife, 

On  earth  had  never  been. 

His  song  rang  out  full  many  a  day, 

Bright  years  of  joy  along, 
And  truer  heart  ne'er  found  a  voice 

In  simple,  earnest  song. 


RIP'S  SONG  OF  HIS  WIFE. 

No  happier  man  can  live  than  I ! 

My  dear  wife's  love  is  mine  ; 
And  love  could  not  so  fill  the  heart 

Unless  it  were  divine. 


248  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Nor  richer  man  there  lives  than  I ! 

Though  poor  they  call  my  lot ; 
For  what  were  all  the  world  to  me 

If  she  should  love  me  not. 

One  loving  heart  makes  all  things  bright, 
Like  the  bright  sun  in  heaven  ; 

Surely  the  Lord  is  very  good, 
Or  she  had  not  been  given. 

I  envy  not  the  titled  great, 
Nor  king  with  jewelled  queen  ; 

For  I  have  home  ;  and  my  sweet  home 
Is  blessed  by  my  Katrine. 

No  gilded  halls,  nor  palace  walls, 
More  filled  with  cheer  can  be  ; 

Nor  kingdom  sweeter  to  its  king 
Than  my  dear  home  to  me. 

What  though  the  rising  sun  must  see 

My  busy  hands  astir  ? 
The  birds  are  singing  while  I  work, 

And  toil  is  sweet  for  her. 

What  though  Katrine  be  simply  clad  ? 
A  queen  might  wish  to  wear 


RIP'S  SONG    OF  HIS    WIFE.  249 

The  crown  of  beauty  on  her  brow, 
Than  coronet  more  fair. 

And  love  and  truth  and  gentleness 

Are  jewels  in  her  breast ; 
And  surely,  with  such  treasure  rare, 

She  is  not  meanly  drest. 

And  all  the  world  doth  love  Katrine,  — 

The  very  birds  come  near, 
To  eat  the  crumbs  she  throws  to  them, 

Without  a  touch  of  fear. 

I  wonder  not  when  she  doth  come 

They  do  not  fly  away, 
But  gather  round  the  cabin-door, 

To  sing  for  her  all  day. 

Nor  that  the  sunbeams  love  to  pour 

On  her  their  golden  shower  ; 
They  never  kissed  a  sweeter  face, 

Nor  loved  a  purer  flower. 

The  flowers  she  tends  are  glad  to  give 

To  her  their  richest  bloom, 
And  fill  the  chambers  of  her  heart 

With  breath  of  their  perfume. 


250  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Their  fragrant  cells  are  happy  homes 

Of  fairy  little  elves, 
Who  love  to  kiss  the  hands  of  one 

As  gentle  as  themselves. 

Oh  happy  I  with  such  a  wife  ! 

No  joy  save  that  above, 
No  treasure  that  the  earth  can  give 

Can  equal  her  dear  love. 

God  keep  her  well !  let  no  rude  blast, 

Nor  cloud  of  stormy  wrath, 
E'er  touch  her  gentle  form,  nor  cast 

A  shadow  on  her  path  ! 

No  word  of  mine  e'er  fall  on  her, 

Which  I  could  wish  unsaid, 
Should  Heaven  decree  that  her  pure  form 

Must  lie  before  me  dead. 

But  her  good  words  may  I  so  hear, 
And  Heaven  so  hear  her  prayer, 

That  when  she  passes  to  the  sky 
Her  steps  may  lead  me  there. 


ANN  EKE  SETTLED.  251 


ANNEKE  SETTLED. 

NOR  Anneke  was  less  content, 
At  Spuyten  Duyvil,  whither  went 
That  whilom  widow,  —  wedding  bent, 
That  summer  day. 

She  wished  to  view  the  lovely  spot ; 
Also  her  friend,  Hank  Lippencott, 
Van  Horn's  old  rival ;  and  why  not  ? 
It  was  her  way. 

Her  life  with  Rip  was  but  a  span, 
Why  should  she  not,  on  widow-plan, 
Lay  siege  unto  another  man, 

With  her  sweet  form  ? 

Hank  Lippencott,  not  iron-clad, 
Nor  widow-proof,  was  but  too  glad 
To  feel  the  darts  that  made  him  sad, 
And  hailed  the  storm. 

The  doughty  Dutchman,  sad  though  stout, 
By  Anneke  was  put  to  rout, 
And  yielded  e'er  a  month  was  out ; 
Brave  Lippencott ! 


252  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

And  hence  't  was  said,  that  Anneke 
Just  glanced  at  Lippencott,  and  he 
At  once  sent  for  the  Dominie, 
To  tie  the  knot. 

With  bridal  blush  upon  her  cheek, 
She  sent  to  Rip,  that  very  week 
To  sell  her  farm  on  Sparkle  Creek  ; 
She  needed  cash. 

For  she  was  now  the  wife  of  one 
Whose  love  would  be  to  her  a  sun, 
And  life  with  her  was  just  begun  ! 
This  with  a  dash. 

The  farm,  in  time,  -was  duly  sold, 
And  by  the  vendue  turned  to  gold, 
And  then  to  Rip,  by  neighbors  old, 
'T  was  made  to  pass. 

And  Anneke  lived  many  years, 
And  Lippencott  forgot  his  tears, 
When  both  had  fallen,  like  ripened  pears, 
Into  the  grass. 

Her  numerous  daughters,  wondrous  fair, 
Still  live,  by  various  names,  to  bear 
Her  charms  and  virtues  everywhere, 
And  winning  heart. 


ANN  EKE  SETTLED.  253 

Foremother  she  of  widows  young, 
Yclept  "  bewitched,"  by  whose  sweet  tongue 
So  many  hearts  of  men  are  stung, 
Past  healing  art ; 

And  founder  of  the  funeral  flames, 
Where,  unconsoled,  they  burn  their  names, 
And,  phoenix-like,  renew  love's  games, 
With  life's  unrest. 

Let  no  one  think,  in  all  the  land, 
He  hath  the  power,  with  single  hand, 
Before  a  child  of  hers  to  stand, 

With  unmoved  breast. 

And  till  he  has,  let  no  one  blame 
Poor  Rip,  that,  caught  by  such  a  flame, 
He  gave  to  Anneke  his  name  ; 
He  did  his  best. 


254  ONE   WIFE   TOO  MANY. 


RIP  AND  KATRINA. 

RIP,  happy  man,  and  his  Katrine 
Lived  long,  nor  loved  the  less  ; 

But  walked,  twin-hearted,  all  their  days, 
The  path  of  pleasantness. 

How  well  they  lived  't  is  good  to  know, 
With  blessings  great  and  small ; 

Well  known  through  all  the  country  round. 
And  well  beloved  by  all. 

The  vine  beside  the  cabin-door, 

Shadow  of  peaceful  rest, 
Gave  fruit  hospitable  to  all, 

And  joy  to  every  guest. 

Old  Caesar  was  "  himself  again," 
And  smiled  as  he  used  to  smile, 

And  worked  away,  as  he  used  to  work, 
Singing  old  tunes  the  while. 

The  faithful  watch-dog  wagged  his  tail, 

With  joy,  as  heretofore  ; 
And  puss,  no  longer  deemed  a  witch, 

Lay  purring  on  the  floor. 


RIP  AND   KATRINA.  255 

The  music  of  the  spinning-wheel 
Joined  with  Katrine's  sweet  voice, 

And  the  old,  staid  rhythm  of  Rip's  heir-loom 
Made  the  cabin- walls  rejoice. 

The  cherry-tree,  though  sorely  hurt 

By  Anneke's  jealous  knife, 
Like  the  strong  love  that  guarded  it, 

Tenacious  held  to  life. 

Its  wounded  form,  by  nurseful  care, 
Soon  healed  and  grew  unchecked, 

As  love  survives  a  thousand  shocks, 
Nor  dies  but  by  neglect. 

Its  blushing  fruit  came,  year  by  year, 

As  sure  as  Summer  came  ; 
And  with  the  signs  of  Rip's  true  love 

The  tree  was  all  aflame. 

And  in  its  branches,  every  Spring, 

A  robin  built  her  nest, 
And  reared  her  young,  assured  that  none 

Would  harm  or  dare  molest. 

The  birdlings  came,  and  as  they  grew, 
The  nest  still  grew  apace, 


256  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

With  ample  stores  to  satisfy 
The  wants  of  each  new  face. 

The  traveller  now,  who  passes  by 
The  road  where  once  it  stood, 

Sees  row  on  row  of  cherry-trees, 
In  all  that  neighborhood. 

These  sprang  from  it.     Katrina's  tree 

Grew  famous  in  the  land, 
And  spread  its  loving  name  and  fame 

Afar  on  every  hand. 

For  when  a  child  was  budding  forth, 

A  tree  was  planted  too, 
To  be  a  guardian  of  its  love, 

To  God  and  homestead  true. 

How  long  a  row  Rip  and  Katrine 
Had  planted  by  their  house 

We  but  surmise,  but  this  we  know, 
She  was  a  fruitful  spouse. 

And  as  their  household  multiplied, 
The  mother's  gentle  grace 

Diffused  itself  through  every  heart, 
And  shone  in  every  face. 


RIP  AND  KATR1NA.  257 

Time,  in  his  car,  brought  them  the  gifts 

Which  to  the  good  he  brings  ; 
And  years,  as  they  went  flying  by, 

Dropped  blessings  from  their  wings. 

Their  brave  young  orchards  stalwart  grew, 

And  when  the  Fall  came  round 
Brought  golden  apples  in  their  arms, 

And  laid  them  on  the  ground. 

The  sweating  Harvest  stacked  her  sheaves 

For  them,  with  joyous  strains, 
And  crowded  all  their  garners  full 

Of  rich  and  golden  grains. 

The  skillful  Summer  clothed  their  fields 

In  robes  of  green  and  gold  ; 
And  clamorous  Winter  strove  in  vain 

To  pinch  their  guarded  fold. 

From  their  most  bounteous  house,  so  blessed 

In  basket  and  in  store, 
No  needy  suppliant  shivering  passed, 

Nor  hungry  from  the  door. 

Their  flocks  brought  forth  abundantly, 
And  fields  were  multiplied, 

17 


258  ONE  WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Until  their  humble  farm  stretched  forth 
Its  acres,  far  and  wide. 

Led  by  his  gentle  wife,  good  Rip 
Rejoiced,  with  her,  to  stand 

By  holy  altar,  and  became 
The  Dominie's  right-hand. 

Their  children  followed  in  their  steps, 
And  sang  the  songs  divine  ; 

And  ate  and  drank,  in  the  holy  place, 
The  sacred  bread  and  wine. 

Their  children's  children  follow  them, 
In  this  good  land  of  ours  ; 

As  in  the  pathway  of  the  sun 
Walk  fruitful  fields  and  flowers. 

The  land  is  blessed  by  such  as  they, 
And  by  their  honest  blood, 

And  stalwart  limbs,  holds  on  her  way 
For  liberty  and  God. 

For  God  and  freedom  well  they  fought, 

In  stormy  days  of  yore, 
When  the  infant  land  was  borne  aloft 

In  the  iron  arms  of  War. 


RIP  AND  KATRINA.  269 

And  when  the  lion  sprang  upon 

The  stripling  in  his  path, 
Again  their  trusty  swords  they  drew, 

And  smote  him  in  their  wrath. 

And  when  the  fiery  traitor-snake 

Rattled  for  deadly  strife, 
They  sprang  upon  his  crested  head, 

And  saved  their  country's  life. 

From  every  hill  and  glen  along 

Brave  Hudson's  glorious  banks, 
They,  like  the  river's  sweeping  waves, 

Poured  their  resistless  ranks. 

*  They  sprang  to  arms,  not  moved  by  fame, 

But  patriot's  glowing  sense, 
That  fused  their  souls,  and  made  their  hearts 
A  shield  for  her  defense. 

And  on  the  land,  on  sea  and  lake, 

In  battles  fierce  and  bold, 
They  showed  the  souls  of  fathers  brave, 

'And  blood  of  vikings  old. 

In  leaden  hail  and  thunder  crash, 
When  brave  men  held  their  breath. 


260  ONE   WIFE  TOO  MANY. 

Theirs  were  the  hearts  that  would  not  yield 
To  any  foe  but  death. 

How  well  they  fought,  how  long  they  fought, 

The  rolls  of  honor  show  ; 
And  when  they  fell  they  always  fell 

With  faces  to  the  foe. 

Nor  yet  alone  on  bloody  seas, 

Nor  on  the  battle-field, 
These  children  of  the  brave  and  good, 

Their  loyal  service  yield. 

No  homes  of  theirs  have  treason  hatched, 

To  strike,  with  bloody  hand, 
The  mother  dear  that  nourished  them, 

And  slay  their  native  land. 

Nor  skeptic  bands  from  them  have  stalked, 
To  curse  the  ground  they  trod, 

With  treason  flaunting  on  their  flag, 
Against  their  fathers'  God. 

With  watchful  prayer,  and  sleepless  eye, 
They  guard  their  country's  gates  ; 

And,  heart  to  heart,  they  form  the  chain 
That  binds  in  one  her  States. 


MORAL.  261 

Their  sturdy  arms  her  forests  fell, 

They  cleave  her  virgin  soil  ; 
And  from  the  earth  her  treasure  bring, 

And  build  her  State  with  toil. 

Their  daring  keels  plough  every  sea. 

And  from  all  climes  they  meet 
With  gathered  wealth  and  jewels  rare, 

To  cast  them  at  her  feet. 

And  she,  amid  her  untold  wealth, 

And  crowned  with  jewels  stands  ; 
But  counts,  by  far  her  richest  gems, 

Their  loving  hearts  and  hands. 

For  truer  hearts  and  firmer  hands 

The  world  hath  never  seen 
Than  those  bequeathed  to  our  dear  land 

By  Rip  and  his  Katrine. 


XXII. 
MORAL. 

To  all  who  dwell  on  Tappan  Zee, 

Or  any  sea  beside, 
I  would  this  truthful  tale  might  be 

A  compass,  chart,  and  guide. 


262  ONE    WIFE   TOO  MANY. 

Let  not  a  parson  shrink  from  duty, 

Whate'er  his  duty  be, 
Because  of  wife,  or  wealth,  or  beauty, 

Or  best  of  tongue,  or  tea. 

Let  not  a  widow  haste  to  wed 

A  man  bereaved  by  death, 
Nor  think  his  first  wife  surely  dead 

Because  she  's  out  of  breath. 

Nor  widowers  hurry,  when  forlorn, 

That  other  wives  be  found 
Before  they  're  sure  that  those  they  mourn 

Are  cold  and  under  ground. 

And  let  all  men  be  sure  of  this,  — 

That  for  the  happiest  life 
Enough  ?s  enough  of  any  bliss, 

Especially  of  wife. 


THE   END. 


HYMN. 

BY  REV.  ED\VAKI>  HOPPER,  D.  1). 

watch  and  ward  through  FIFTY  years, 
O'er  storm-tossed  brothers  of  the  sea, 
And  gathered  fruits  of  toil  and  tears. 

Glad  thanks  we  bring,  (.)  (rod  !  to  Thee. 

\Ve  heard  Thy  voice,   "  The  sea  is  mine," 
And  followed  where  Thy  footsteps  led  : 

While  from  Thy  presence  light  divine 
A  glory  on  our  pathway  shed. 

The  waves  grew  calm  beneath  Thy  feet; 

Wild  spirits  hushed  their  stormy  breath; 
And  from  the  depths  came  preans  sweet 

From  rescued  souls  redeemed  from  death. 

On  every  sea,  to  every  shore 

Sail  Thou,  O  Christ !   Stretch  forth  Thy  hand 
Till  storms  shall  sweep  the  waves  no  more, 

Till  death  no  more  shall  sweep  the  land  : 

Till  all  the  lands  their  jewels  bright 

Bring  forth  to  deck  Thy  brow  alone  ; 

And  every  ocean,  robed  in  light, 

Reflects  the  glory  of  Thy  throne  ! 


M182041 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


VC15938S 


